


It’s Better Not to Know You so I Won’t Yearn for You

by AbhorrentGodliness



Series: Perception: 0 [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxiety, Awkward Dates, Awkward Flirting, Awkwardness, Biting, Blow Jobs, Comedy, Cowgirl Position, Creampie, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cunnilingus, Dating, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Doggy Style, Dream Sex, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Grinding, Height Differences, Height Kink, Licking, Light Angst, Light Dom/sub, Marking, Masturbation, Missionary Position, Nervousness, POV Third Person, Panic, Pining, Praise Kink, Rough Sex, Size Difference, Size Kink, Slow Burn, Strength Kink, Sunsets, arthur cooks!, only nora doesn't realize it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:08:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21991963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbhorrentGodliness/pseuds/AbhorrentGodliness
Summary: When Elder Arthur Maxson invites General Nora Parker to his quarters for dinner, she assumes it’s just to strategize since they’re both faction leaders—but one dinner turns into two, and Nora can’t help but start pining for the younger man even though she’scertainit’s all business.
Relationships: Arthur Maxson/Female Sole Survivor, Arthur Maxson/Sole Survivor
Series: Perception: 0 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1814101
Comments: 86
Kudos: 185





	1. Invitation

When she first laid eyes on him, she was taken aback—he was young, much younger than his title had led her to believe; despite this, he seemed to have the experience of a man thrice his age.

She’d remained in the back of the observation deck as he went through his speech, his charisma loud and strong and filling the room, threatening to drown her as if she was being held underwater; it took all she had to remind herself to _breathe._ Even so, she could only stare as he paced back and forth, addressing the soldiers before him like he’d done it a million times before. And maybe he had.

But the man was also goddamn _pretty._ And not just any sort of pretty, like the _’yeah, he’s fairly good looking’_ pretty, but more so the _’I’d let this man do whatever he wanted to me so long as I can sit on his face’_ pretty.

And that voice? Oof.

When they finally spoke, she had to keep herself from melting into a puddle all over the floor. He’d offered her a higher rank than Initiate, but she’d declined; a look of surprise had washed over his face if only for a moment before he asked for her reason, to which she’d explained she had no desire to join the Brotherhood. Instead, she wanted to keep her focus on the Minutemen as she felt she could do more good as their General than anywhere else—but that she’d also be more than happy to work alongside him as leaders.

And under him. And atop him. But… she didn’t say that, of course. She couldn’t.

That was a month ago, and she’d seen him numerous times since then, visiting the Prydwen to provide updates on what she’d found on the Institute; he seemed satisfied and pleased with the information she provided even though there was never a whole lot, nor was it ever very vital or important information. Still, she’d been checking in with him once per week, deciding to deliver it all herself rather than send it up with Danse.

But it certainly wasn’t because she liked looking at him and hearing him talk.

Definitely not.

And now, here she was again, looking up at the man who was seven years her junior and a foot taller than her while she finished giving him the last bit of information she’d gathered; but just as she was leaving, bidding him farewell, he stopped her.

“General Parker,” he called before she was even out of the observation deck. “You never received a tour of the Prydwen, did you?”

Wait, what?

Nora blinked, turning to face him. “I—well, no, I guess I didn’t, but I think that’s because I declined your offer to join your ranks. I wouldn’t want to intrude—”

“You’re not intruding at all, General,” he interrupted; she couldn’t help but lock eyes with him as he stared her down invitingly. “Please, allow me to show you my ship. It’s the least I can do.”

Biting her bottom lip, the vaultie hesitated—did he just look down at her mouth?—but nodded. “Yeah, alright,” she conceded with a smile.

The corners of his lips twitched, the closest to a smile she’d ever seen from Arthur Maxson since she’d met him, before he held an arm out, palm up, motioning toward the ladder. “After you.”

It certainly wasn’t lost on her that going up first meant her ass would be in clear view, but the Minutemen coat would hide it… right?

Once they reached the main deck, Maxson’s hands were behind his back, his chest puffed out like usual— _fuck_ —as he turned and started leading her down the hall. He took her to each area, introducing her to his Proctors and explaining their jobs and goals, then told her how she had free rein of his ship with access to whatever she needed despite not being in his ranks. Really, Nora found it a bit strange that he’d allow her to wander around without an escort, especially since he’d only known her for a short time, but if she’d gained that trust from him, then it must have meant she was doing something right and she wasn’t about to question or ruin it.

Their walk through the ship was slow, and she took notice every time one of his soldiers greeted him as they passed. He always gave a simple nod of the head in return though kept his attention on her, and she respected that. She was his guest, after all.

By the time the tour was over, they ended up on the top walkway, the occasional soldier in power armor walking by on patrol, though they were no longer bothered. Maxson was leaned over the railing, his forearms pressed against it as he looked down at the lab one of his lead Scribes had set up. A dead super mutant sat on the table in the middle of it while mole rats were locked in a cage on one side, some strange plants on the other.

“So, what do you think?” he asked, breaking the silence.

The question caught Nora off guard as she turned to face the same direction as him, overlooking the lab. “About what?”

“The Prydwen. My ship. What are your thoughts on it?”

The vault dweller took a few seconds to think the question over, humming lightly. “I’m not much of a fighter and I’m still learning how to strategize when it comes to combat, but that’s where Preston comes in. From what I do know, you have a good setup. Your medbay is a bit small, especially considering the number of soldiers you have, but, otherwise, I think this is good. If… you are taking suggestions,” she glanced over at him and he nodded his head once, “I would say to set up another medbay down at the airport as backup.”

Nora leaned on the railing beside him, her fingers wrapping around the metal bar. “I’ve been told the Brotherhood is known to just hoard technology, but seeing you do otherwise is promising. The fact you’re utilizing it to improve things is impressive, especially when it comes to sharing the improved outcomes with wastelanders. People are struggling and—”

Turning her eyes to him as she paused, a red flush ran up her face when she realized he was staring at her with those intense sky blues. Immediately, she looked away again and out over the railing. The slight creak of his coat as he stood up straight was heard, but rather than letting him speak, she did so first, the anxiety in her bones telling her to _run, retreat, abort, abort, abort._

“I—I should probably get going.”

A glance up at the Elder told her he looked taken aback if not slightly insulted that she was already leaving, but he quickly wiped the expression off his face before nodding.

”I’ll walk you to the vertibird.”

“You don’t have to do that, Elder—” she started, but was cut off.

“Nonsense. Come.”

_I wish—no, stop that._

Nora kept her eyes on the ground as they walked, and once they reached the vertibird, Maxson stopped just outside it and turned to face her. She gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you for the tour, Elder.”

“It was my pleasure,” he replied.

“I’ll see you next week for an update, then?”

There was a moment of hesitation before he spoke. “Actually,” he began, and she felt her stomach twist in anticipation, thinking he was about to call off their alliance—but that was far from the case, “I’d like you to join me for dinner tonight, General. If that’s acceptable.”

“… Dinner?” she asked, her eyebrows furrowing in slight confusion.

“Yes. In my quarters. I’ll have the mess hall officer prepare something.”

“… Oh.”

Looking away, the vaultie thought about it, slightly conflicted. _Dinner with Arthur Maxson?_ It was harmless, right? Just two leaders talking over strategy—but would his soldiers and her Minutemen get the wrong idea? They were both young, and while she wasn’t sure how much pressure was being put on him by the rest of the Brotherhood to find a wife, she knew having dinner with a single woman probably made it seem like he was _considering_ her…

Still. They were just two leaders strategizing over a meal. There was no harm in that… right?

“Yeah, sure. That sounds good.”

“Excellent,” he replied—did he just perk up a little?—with a nod of his head. “How does 1900 sound?”

Fucking military time. “Works for me.”

“I’ll send a vertibird for you by 1830.”

With a nervous smile, Nora nodded and turned, moving to step into the vertibird—but when the Elder offered his hand to help her in, she paused, staring at it for a second before looking up at him. Those piercing eyes were just staring down at her with that same goddamn expression he always had—unreadable, of course—while he waited. Nora eventually bit her bottom lip before turning back to his hand and taking it, allowing him to help her step up into the ‘bird. The pad of his thumb brushed over her knuckles just before he released her hand.

The Prydwen began its release, the arm extending out, and Maxson watched as the distance between them grew. “Until tonight, General,” he called, bidding her farewell.

All Nora could do was just stare at him like an idiot.

What the fuck was happening?


	2. Leaders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fuck, he even _pulled her chair out_ for her to sit down. Like, what the hell? Nate rarely ever did that shit for her; then again, their relationship hadn’t started like most others back in their time. Still, it was _weird_ —but also… welcomed.
> 
> A small taste of something she’d briefly experienced long ago.

This was dumb.

This was _really_ dumb.

 _She_ was dumb.

It was just dinner between two leaders, that was all. Just dinner between two leaders, one of them being very young and very… _very_ attractive. _Very._

“Alright, Nora. Breathe. You’re almost there—”

“You say somethin’, General?”

She startled from where she sat in the vertibird as the Lancer glanced back at her for just a brief moment before looking ahead again.

“What?”

“Oh. Nothin’. Just thought I heard you sayin’ somethin’, was all.”

Pursing her lips, Nora turned her attention to look out the side of the vertibird—nope, bad idea. When her stomach did a triple flip, all she could do was tightly close her eyes and try to keep herself from upchucking the food she hadn’t even eaten yet. Was that a thing that could happen? Could she just throw up food she was supposed to be eating in the near future? Certainly, that wasn’t—

The arm from the Prydwen extended and latched onto the vertibird and the vaultie nearly jumped out of her skin, her hands latching onto and gripping the handle directly beside her to hold herself steady. Fuck, she _hated_ flying—never liked it before the bombs, still hated it now. Hell, she’d initially thought the one good thing about the world ending was that she’d never have to step foot on another fucking plane again.

Technically, she was right—now she just had to get on goddamn helicopters and _blimps._

Fuck this.

The ‘bird shook as it was docked and Nora clung tighter to the handle, her knuckles white from how hard she gripped it, eyes tightly closed as she waited for her stomach to settle.

“Ah, General?” the Lancer called, looking back at her again. “We’re docked. You can go ahead now.”

Releasing a slow, shaky breath, her eyes met the pilot’s. “… Right,” she whispered, gradually unraveling her fingers. She straightened her clothing before turning to step out and onto the flight deck—until she saw _him._

Because _of fucking course_ he was waiting for her.

But her foot was already lifted and the surprise of seeing Arthur fucking Maxson standing there, his hand outstretched, sent her into a state of surprise and confusion that she apparently forgot how to fucking _walk_ and was, instead, sent tumbling out of the vertibird like a goddamn idiot.

It’d been, what, just a handful of hours since she’d last seen him and made a fool of herself? And now, here she was doing it again. And they still had dinner ahead of them.

Great. Just great. This was fine.

Nora fell right into him, face-planting directly into his chest—he smelled so goddamn _good_ —as his arms wrapped around her so he could catch her, allowing her to steady herself. She’d grabbed onto his coat in the process, and once she was finally on her feet, she just… stood there, her face still buried in his chest. His _broad_ chest. His _broad_ chest that was _comfortable_ and _smelled so fucking good._ But that wasn’t why she stayed, no—she stayed because she couldn’t convince herself to move, her face burning red hot and her hands clenching his coat as embarrassment ran through her.

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Arthur cleared his throat. “General,” he started, and she felt her face turn even redder, as if that was possible.

Pushing away from him just a bit, the vaultie refused to meet his eyes—but that wasn’t hard when the man was a foot fucking taller than her. A nervous laugh escaped her as she straightened the lapels of his coat out, trying to ignore how his hands slid off her back and to her waist—that meant nothing, clearly—before they fell to his sides.

“S-sorry, Elder Maxson. Aha. I, uh—I slipped.”

“I noticed.”

She nervously laughed again, her eyes looking off to the side. “Well, uh, thanks for your, um… assistance. Much appreciated.”

“Mm, of course.” His tone was neutral, but Nora wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about that—no, scratch that. She felt fucking _dumb._ “Shall we?” he asked, and it was then she looked up to meet his eyes; that same emotionless expression was there, but he held his arm out to the side, offering to take her to his quarters so they could have dinner, as planned.

With a nervous gulp, she nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

He was a _gentleman_ —something she hadn’t seen since before the war. Granted, Preston was a gentleman, too, but Arthur… well, Arthur went above and beyond. He walked beside her as they went through the flight deck and ship, opened doors for her, allowed her to go through them first; and once they were in his quarters, he’d offered to take her coat off and even her hat. She obliged, and he neatly folded her coat and set it on his desk, her hat atop it.

Fuck, he even _pulled her chair out_ for her to sit down. Like, what the hell? Nate rarely ever did that shit for her; then again, their relationship hadn’t started like most others back in their time. Still, it was _weird_ —but also… welcomed.

A small taste of something she’d briefly experienced long ago.

Once she was seated, he stepped away and slipped his gloves off, setting them on the desk beside her coat, and then shrugged off his own coat and—holy hell _that ass._ Nora’s brows raised as she stared; she _couldn’t fucking help it._ Maybe it was the suit doing it for him or maybe it was that he really did have an incredible ass, or maybe it was _both,_ but _damn._ The belt-like piece that ran between his legs—

Maxson turned around and Nora immediately diverted her gaze down to the table, her brows still raised but lips pursed as she tried to pretend like she hadn’t just almost gotten caught—almost, right?—staring at his ass. A bottle of something was set on the table along with two glasses before he turned back around to return to his desk, rolling up his sleeves in the process; she turned her head just slightly to look at him again from the corner of her eye. 

“What do you like to drink, General?” he asked. “I have liquor, wine, water, Nuka-Cola, whatever you wish.”

“Ah… whatever this is… is, uh… is fine…”

The Elder paused briefly without turning around. “And what do you think that is?”

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

Looking at the bottle he’d set on the table a moment ago, she squinted at it, but there wasn’t a label—no words, no indicator to what it was or what its contents held. Shit. Fuck. She’d screwed up. By getting distracted by his ass—and it was a _nice_ ass—she’d just agreed to drink whatever it was he’d put on the table and now… well, now he was calling her out on it.

“Liq…uor? Liquor?” she whispered, her eyes slowly raising to him as he turned to face her. Did the corners of his lips just twitch?

“You don’t drink much, do you?” the Elder asked, carrying another bottle over to the table and setting it down beside the first.

Nora hunched over and hid her face in her hands as she turned tato red. “Fuck. No, I don’t. I couldn’t because—”

There was a knock on the door and the vaultie startled while Arthur stepped around her chair and moved toward it, opening the bulkhead and greeting whoever was on the other side; she couldn’t see past his large frame but she _could_ see his ass. He quietly said something to the person before taking whatever it was that they handed him and then stepped back, shutting the door. And when he turned around, she saw he had a tray in his hand with two plates on it.

Maxson set the tray on the furthest edge of the table, picking up one plate and putting it in front of her, then carrying the second plate to where he was sitting—diagonally to her right, directly behind his desk, at the other end. 

The food on the plate looked _really_ good, and it smelled really good, too. Incredible, if she was being honest. She hadn’t eaten a meal this well-cooked in fucking _forever._

“What is this?” she quietly asked as she watched him take his seat.

“Grilled radstag with tato sauce and sliced gourd on the side,” he answered. Maxson reached forward and grabbed one of the bottles—the second bottle he’d set down—and opened it, then poured some of the liquid into one of the glasses before gently nudging it toward her. “And that is red wine.”

Nora pursed her lips. “I know what red wine looks and tastes like, _thank you very much.”_

The look he gave her said he didn’t believe her, but he didn’t push it—and she was certainly grateful because she’d definitely lied. Nora was… not a drinker.

“What are _you_ drinking?” she asked, watching him pour his own drink from the first bottle. 

“Whiskey.”

“… What if I wanted some of that?”

Those sky blue eyes that she thought she might get lost in flicked up to her as he finished pouring his glass, and he then closed the liquor bottle before picking up his drink and holding it out to her without a word.

Nora had only drank liquor a few times in the past but each time she’d gotten drunk it was always with vodka—nothing else. Nate wasn’t a drinker, either, and she’d never really found much pleasure in doing it, anyway, so there wasn’t any reason for her to do it again after they’d gotten together. Plus, when she got pregnant, she just _couldn’t._ But having whiskey offered to her… well, she could at least _taste_ it, right?

Hesitantly, she took his glass and lifted it to her face, taking a whiff of it— “Oh, god, that smells _horrible,”_ she said with a crinkled nose; Arthur just barely smirked as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, hands folded in front of his mouth as he watched her. “Does it taste bad?”

“Would I drink it if it tasted bad?”

“… I dunno, maybe. You could be one of those weirdos who drinks bad-tasting stuff.” The noise he made was almost something of a laugh, she was sure of it, even though it was just a slight grunt—she’d take it. Still, she turned her eyes to him and they locked gazes as she took a sip of his whiskey—

Not good.

_Not. Good._

Nora’s entire face scrunched up as she swallowed the small sip, the burn of liquor traveling down her throat. “That… oh, god, that was terrible. I can’t believe you let me drink that,” she croaked, putting the glass down and pushing it toward him.

“I like it,” the Elder said with a shrug as he picked it up and took a drink of it himself; she couldn’t help the disgusted look she gave him when he didn’t even wince from the taste.

“So you _are_ one of those weirdos. Ugh, I’m ever trusting you with anything ever again.”

“We’ll see.”

Her face flushed. “Wait, wha—”

“Taste the wine. If you don’t like that, then I have Nuka-Cola or water, if you’d prefer one of those.”

Bastard.

Huffing, the vaultie took a sip of her wine—not bad, really. “Yeah, that’s good. I like it.”

One corner of Arthur’s mouth curved up ever so slightly before he picked up his utensils and started cutting into his food; Nora looked down at her own and did the same as they began to eat.

They were quiet as they ate at first, though, which was never good. If there was one thing Nora hated, it was silence—it meant her thoughts were free to tumble around in her head, allowing her anxiety to get the best of her. And what better time would there be for that to happen than when she was eating dinner with Arthur Maxson, the Elder of the Brotherhood of Steel? Even if they were just doing it as two leaders of their factions, she knew her brain would make her anxious and she'd eventually panic.

No, she had to break the silence.

“So, uh…” she began, glancing over to him, though her eyes immediately returned to her food, “You wanted to talk strategy, I’m assuming?”

Maxson looked up at her then, one eyebrow cocked, and she caught his gaze—and then they just stared at one another for what felt like fucking forever, Nora’s face flushing and jaw clenching while her anxiety was growing even _worse._ Maybe she should have remained quiet.

But something seemed to sink in for him, maybe, because it looked like realization washed over his face before he looked back down at his food and jabbed his fork at a piece of his radstag while nodding his head. “Mm, I see.”

“… You see? You see what?”

“Nothing, it’s quite alright,” he said softly.

Oh, fuck. What did she do? What did she mess up? Nora’s face turned tato red again, the flush nearly taking over the dark freckles that were splashed over her nose and cheeks, and she returned her eyes to her plate, staring down at it in a mixture of confusion and worry. “Elder, did I—”

“How are the defenses at the castle?” he asked, cutting her off.

This wasn’t making any fucking _sense,_ but at least he’d taken some of the awkwardness away. Sort of? “Uh… improving, I guess,” she started, picking her fork back up and pushing some of her food around. “We have a couple more mortars up, but the wall is taking a lot longer to repair than anticipated.”

“What do you need to repair it?”

“We have the concrete from scavenging, so we mostly need more manpower,” she admitted. “I’m trying to allocate some resources from nearby settlements, but most of them are already short on hands so they can’t really afford to lose any more people.”

Maxson hummed lightly as he took a sip of his whiskey. “I can spare some men to help guard your settlements if you need to move people around to fix the wall.”

His offer caught her off guard and she turned her eyes to him, being met by his gaze as he set his utensils down and sat back in his chair, his hands crossing over his lower stomach. It was… something to behold, that was for certain—and she couldn’t help it when she glanced him over, taking in his reclined position.

It seemed the soldier had relaxed into just a man.

The fact he’d loosened up was surprising, to say the least, though she knew it couldn’t be the whiskey since he hadn’t actually drank more than a glass—but the fact he’d done it around _her_ was even _more_ surprising. He clearly felt comfortable enough to let his guard down with her in the room. What the hell did that mean?

“Unless your men are able to farm, that’s not what I need,” she replied, having found some sort of confidence in her voice. It was easier when speaking on this topic since it was something she knew and had control over. Nora shifted in her seat so she was facing him without moving the actual chair, one leg tucking beneath the other; Arthur tipped his chin up in interest as he watched her. “I don’t have enough hands in those settlements to spare at all. If you’re willing to lend me manpower, then I’d prefer it if you’d send me people who can help fix the wall, instead.”

“And what can you give me in return?” he asked.

_Anything you want, including my ovaries—no, goddamnit, stop that._

“Crops. It… might take me a while to get some trade routes set up, but I can’t imagine you won’t need more food for this many soldiers in the future.”

She watched as he rubbed at his jaw in thought, part of her wishing she could thread her fingers into his beard— _fucking stop it, Nora._

“Mm, alright,” he finally agreed. “I’ll give you five men, at least one I know of having some knowledge in masonry, provided you also feed them while they’re under your command. They should be able to help finish repairing the wall fairly quickly.” He crossed his ankle over his other knee; she couldn’t help but look, cursing herself for doing so. “I’ll also help you work out trade routes among your settlements—if you’d like the help—and, in return, I expect crops to help feed my soldiers for the remainder of the time we’re in the Commonwealth.”

Nora was quiet as she studied him—but he just watched her in return, waiting for her answer.

“How many crops?” she asked.

He shrugged one shoulder. “We’ll see.”

That was… promising. Maybe? He seemed like he was willing to work with her to _both_ their benefits.

“I want protection for the settlements near the airport, too, while you’re here. That’ll let my people work more on farming and have a higher output of crops.”

The left side of his mouth curved upward just slightly, and he gave a brief nod. “Very well. Do we have an agreement?”

Biting her bottom lip—okay, he _definitely_ looked that time—she nodded her head. “Yeah. Deal.”

“Excellent. Now, I don’t have anything to be worried about with these mortars you keep installing, do I?”

Nora was fairly certain her face paled while her eyes grew wide, and something in her stomach twisted as the feeling of fear ran through her veins. He thought she might have ulterior motives!? Granted, the mortars could reach his ship, but…

“Oh, god, no, you’d never—”

“General,” he interrupted; Nora snapped her jaw shut, “I was joking.”

Joking.

He was joking.

_Arthur Maxson was fucking joking._

“I—you were— _joking?”_

One of his eyebrows cocked up. “I did not mean to make you nervous, that was not my intention.”

“No, no, it’s—it’s fine, I just…” she paused, looking away— _you’re an idiot, Nora; a fucking idiot_ —and down at her empty plate, “I just got worried you thought I was…”

“I don’t think you’re going to attack my ship,” he clarified; she felt her shoulders relax.

“Well, uh… that’s—that’s good,” she replied, laughing nervously.

He was quiet for a few moments before finally speaking again, seeming to recognize how goddamn _awkward_ it was to just sit there in silence. “How many settlements do you have nearby that need protection?”

“Uh,” Nora started; her voice cracked, “As of—as of right now? Just two, but—but we’re getting more all the time, so that could change. I don’t—I don’t really need soldiers at them 24/7, just rotating patrols, really. If—if that’s… okay…”

She was stammering over her words like a fucking teenage girl trying to talk to her crush. This was _ridiculous._ She was twenty-fucking-seven!

“Of course. I have patrols sent out, regardless, so adding more won’t hurt. Are your settlers going to be understanding of having Brotherhood nearby?”

The question caught her off guard—he was aware of what others thought of his people? Well, of course he was aware, but he was asking her if _her_ people would be accepting of his own? Returning her eyes to him, she cleared her throat. “If they’re not, then I’ll happily explain to them that Elder Maxson is willing to make trade deals and help out the Minutemen, as well as what you’re doing for the Commonwealth in regard to combating radiation.”

Something on his face changed as he studied her before that same curve at the left corner of his mouth appeared again—but it looked like an expression of… admiration?

Nora’s face flushed yet again, and she laughed nervously once more, her mind telling her to _retreat, retreat, retreat_ from the uncomfortable situation.

“Well, this was a _lovely_ dinner, Elder Maxson,” she started while standing, her chair loudly scraping across the metal floor and making her visibly wince; Arthur stood up at the same time. “But, you know, it’s late. I should really get going. I mean, look at the time and—it’s just so _late.”_

“Of course,” he conceded, not arguing with her—fuck, was she glad about that—as he grabbed her coat and hat off the desk before moving to her side. He held her hat out for her to put it on herself—part of her wished he’d put it on _for_ her because wouldn’t _that_ be adorable; _no, stop it, Nora_ —and once she did, he stepped behind her to help her get her coat over her shoulders. Arthur then moved back to his desk to grab his own; she definitely had to keep herself from looking at his ass again. “I’ll walk you to the vertibird,” he offered just like he had earlier in the day.

_Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck._

“Really, Elder, there’s no need—”

“Nonsense,” he interrupted after shrugging his coat on, leaving his gloves on the desk. “It’s polite. Come.”

_I wish—oh, come on, not this again._

Just like before, he opened doors for her as he walked her to the vertibird, allowing her to go through them first. Once they were at the ‘bird, though, they turned to face one another, and she gave him a nervous smile.

“Thank you again, Elder Maxson. It was—it was a lovely dinner and I’m glad we were able to come to agreements.”

“Of course,” he said; it was only then she realized how _close_ they were.

Fuck, the man was so _tall._ If she ever kissed him, she’d have to stand on her tiptoes— _no, Nora, stop thinking about kissing him._

But when she looked up at him, she so badly wanted to; and she couldn’t help but glance at his lips before quickly looking away—goddamnit.

Turning, the vaultie started to get into the vertibird, looking for some way— _any way_ —to flee the situation, only to find his hand offered to her like before. Fuck. She took it without hesitation, though, allowing him to help her into the ‘bird, and felt the pad of his thumb run over her knuckles. _Even more fuck._

And he didn’t let go.

When she turned back to him, trying to contain the anxiety that was spreading through her body, he met her gaze.

“I’d like to do this again, if that’s alright,” he quietly added.

That… caught her off guard—he seemed to be doing that a lot. She stared at him for a second before finally realizing she hadn’t actually spoke. “… Do, uh—do what again? Strategize over dinner?”

Arthur just very slightly smiled, more than she’d seen him do so before, but _holy fuck_ was it a smile—and all Nora could do was nervously laugh because _what the fuck, Arthur Maxson just smiled at her._

“How about next week, when you come back to the Prydwen?” he offered rather than clarifying.

“Uhhhh,” she flubbed, her voice slightly trembling from nervousness. “Y-yeah, oka—okay. That—that, uh, that works.”

It was only then he released her hand, the pad of his thumb gently running over her knuckles _again,_ and he dipped his chin in a slight head bow. “Until then, General Parker.”

Nora immediately pulled her hand close to her chest, cradling it like she’d been injured as the arm of the Prydwen extended to release the vertibird. Of course, the Elder remained on the flight deck to see her off—and she just stared at him, yet again, like a fucking idiot.

She was pining for this man and all he was doing was wanting to strategize over dinner as faction leaders. What the fuck was wrong with her?

This was _not_ good.

Not good at all.


	3. Strategizing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Elder, I didn’t mean to—”
> 
> “General, please. I was joking. You didn’t insult me,” he interrupted.
> 
> She wanted to punch him so damn bad.
> 
> “I… will never get used to that,” she whispered, her shoulders just slightly relaxing though her face remained tato red.

Her back arched as she grabbed ahold of the bedsheets, bundling them in her fists while a loud moan escaped her, the sound breathy and a sign she was close to the edge. Just as she rolled her hips, grinding her core against the face that was between her thighs, a quick glance had her looking down at disheveled brown hair she’d had her fingers threaded into moments ago. 

“Fuck.” Nora tightly closed her eyes. That familiar coil of heat was growing deep in her belly, warning of her impending orgasm; she was _so close._

A large hand came up from the outside of her thigh and grasped her breast, palming it, fingers squeezing, and she could only cup it with her own to encourage the action.

“Oh, fuck, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna—”

When she looked down again, she was met with a familiar sky blue gaze she’d been unable to stop thinking about—

The vaultie’s eyes opened wide as she gasped awake, her legs snapping shut while there was just so much _heat_ between them and she could feel how fucking _wet_ she was. Fuck.

Raising a hand to her forehead—shit, she was even _sweating_ —she placed her palm to her skin and sighed heavily. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

It’d been a week since she’d last seen Arthur Maxson, the two scheduled to meet again later today—this evening, specifically—and she’d had trouble thinking of anything _but_ him; everything about him, everything he _did,_ it all boggled her mind. What did it mean? Why was he so _polite_ and _gentlemanly?_ Why had he prepared a meal that he claimed he didn’t often eat just for _her?_

And now, apparently, she couldn’t only not stop thinking about him, but she was also _dreaming_ about him, too.

Great. Fucking great.

But the ache between her thighs didn’t cease no matter how much she wished it would, and instead of dissipating on its own, she was left throbbing and soaking, her body craving for touch—and since she couldn’t have the one person she wanted touching her, she knew her own hands would have to suffice.

Sighing heavily, Nora slipped her underwear off and shifted around on the bed before reaching down between her legs, using two fingers to slowly rub her clit as she closed her eyes and relaxed back into the mattress.

“Shit,” she breathed, her hips rolling against the digits, causing her to put a little more pressure on that sensitive spot; at the same time, two fingers from her other hand slipped into her cunt, making slow thrusts in and out. But they were too short to reach that patch of nerves deep inside her—she had small hands, after all.

They’d have to do for now, though.

But… she _still_ couldn’t stop thinking about _him;_ the memory of her dream coming back to her, of how he was between her legs, his eyes—his _tongue._

The way his tongue moved against her was incredible; she could see it each time he opened his mouth. And how he sucked her clit between his lips? _Fuck,_ she could almost _feel_ him flicking the tip of that pink muscle against her sensitive bud as he sucked on it—and if she rubbed her fingers just right…

“Oh, fuck, I’m gonna cum,” she breathed, her toes curling against the sheets while her back arched. Nora pumped her fingers just a bit faster and rubbed her clit a little harder, soon sending herself over the edge. _“Fuck, Arthur!”_ the vaultie moaned, her legs trembling as she came around her fingers.

But it was only after laying there for a few moments while panting and trying to regain herself that she’d realized what she’d said and done.

Fuck.

Fuckfuckfuck.

Groaning, Nora rolled onto her side and covered her head with her pillow. “What the hell is wrong with me?”

══════════════════

Arthur was waiting for her at the flight deck again, though she didn't know if she should have expected him this time or not—they were going to have dinner, sure, but she was still there for their scheduled meeting. And it was just a meeting _between faction leaders._

This man was confusing, to say the least.

He helped her off the vertibird—where she did _not_ fall this time, thankfully—and she’d managed to keep herself a bit more put together compared to the last time they saw one another. But rather than reporting to the observation deck for a debriefing—she wished; _no, fucking stop it, Nora_ —they went straight to his quarters. He took her coat off like usual, folding it and setting it on his desk with her hat atop it, and then pulled out her chair for her to sit.

Unlike last time, though, he didn’t ask her what she wanted to drink, but instead poured her a glass of red wine, likely assuming she was fine with drinking it again while he poured himself a glass of whiskey.

But their food didn’t come right away.

After he took his coat and gloves off and rolled up his sleeves, Arthur grabbed a large, rolled up piece of paper from his desk and carried it over to the table. He unrolled it and set a dry, empty bottle on each corner to keep it open, and when it was finally laid out flat, she realized it was a drawn-out map of the Commonwealth—postwar. Her eyebrows raised; it was… impressive. Detailed. Whoever drew it had talent and skill, that was certain.

“Proctor Quinlan enjoys mapping the wasteland. It has become very useful when we relocate,” he said quietly.

“Huh,” Nora whispered to herself. “Never met anyone who was into cartography, even before the bombs.”

Maxson glanced at her, studying her face briefly before he returned his attention to the map. “If you are alright with me helping you set up trade routes, I’d like to know where your current settlements are.”

The offer made her perk up and she stood, moving beside him. “Do you have something I can use to place on the map as markers?” she asked as she looked down at her pipboy, pulling up the settlements on it.

Arthur glanced at her again before he went to the tall cabinet in the corner of the room and grabbed a small box, carrying it over to the table and setting it down; upon opening it, he turned it toward her, revealing a full set of black and white chess pieces. She flashed him a grin and mumbled thanks before getting to work, moving around him and putting different pieces on the different spots according to where each settlement was. The Minutemen didn’t have a whole lot of places under their control yet, unfortunately, which meant she didn’t need to use even half the pieces, but there were still enough settlements that trade routes were tricky.

Nora found herself getting lost in what she was doing, ducking beneath him and moving around him quickly to place pieces on the large map, not realizing each time she’d brushed against him or how close they got. And by the time she was done, she was at his side again, standing in front of the map and gazing over each chess piece. She’d unclipped her pipboy and handed it to him, allowing him to double check each one just in case—and he was so gentle when he took the device, it was so _small_ in his hands.

But once they’d settled on it being correct, he’d handed the pipboy back to her, nodding in approval.

“So, now what?” she asked, glancing up at him. There wasn’t any nervousness—she had no reason to be anxious at the moment. This was strictly business here, after all; this was what they’d intended to do. Right?

He stood up straight and crossed his arms over his chest while he looked at the map and she found herself staring at him from where she stood at his side—fuck, he was so damn _tall._ And pretty. _So pretty._

“What settlement do you have most of your resources at?” he asked.

“Uh… hm. Probably Sanctuary Hills,” she said, pointing to a black queen in the far left corner of the map. Fitting, in more ways than one.

“Well, this one right here,” he placed his finger on a white bishop just above Oberland Station, “Is probably more strategically available for travel. You have bridges here,” he trailed his finger along one of the lines marking a bridge, “And here.”

She nodded her head with his movements, leaning in a little to get a better view—at least until she realized she was almost leaning _on_ him, her chest just barely touching his arm. But he either didn’t notice or didn’t care; still, Nora pulled back a little.

“If you have your main settlement line coming here,” he pointed at the white bishop above Oberland Station again, “Then you can distribute resources much easier when necessary, at least until you have a much more conveniently located settlement. As for trade routes regarding food, which settlement has the easiest time harvesting crops and has the most hands?”

Tapping the tip of her nose in thought, Nora moved around him again and then put her finger on the black pawn atop Sunshine Tidings Co-Op. “This spot has a lot of land to farm and around twenty people.”

“Hm. They’re a bit far off. Anywhere else?”

“Well…” she started before moving to his other side; he turned his head, watching her, and she tapped on an unmarked spot on the map—an island not far from the castle, “This place, Spectacle Island, is something we’ve been looking at. But there are apparently a lot of mirelurks and we just haven’t had the chance to clear them out yet. But… it would be a really good place to farm.”

“Understandable, but that’s still very far off—even more so compared to the other areas. How do you expect to get things to and from the island without transportation?”

Turning to face him, Nora leaned her hip against the table and crossed her arms over her chest. “We could build a boat. It’ll take a while to get crops going, but I have a really good handyman in Sanctuary who can likely build a good boat to start us off with. But, until then…”

When she looked up at him, she realized he was already staring down at her with piqued interest. Fuck.

“Maybe _you_ could help.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. You have vertibirds that can carry cargo, so if I give you a percentage of the crops grown on the island, your vertibirds drop the rest of what you aren’t getting off at the castle and we’ll take it from there to distribute to the rest of my settlements. It’s on the way, so you won’t be wasting resources.”

Arthur leaned over the table, his hands on the edges and fingers curled around it as he looked over the map, studying each marked location. She wasn’t entirely sure if he was going to accept the offer since his face was always so unreadable, but she was definitely staring at his ass—

“Alright, General,” he finally said, glancing over at her; she immediately looked at him with wide eyes. “We have an agreement for that. Now, I can still help you parse out trade routes for your settlements specifically, if you’d like.”

“Yeah, actually, I would. That’d be really helpful. Thank you.”

“Excellent,” he started—but there was a knock on the door; Maxson glanced over at it. “But let’s eat first, shall we?”

Nora took her seat as Arthur went to the door, getting the tray of food; but rather than setting it on the table since the empty side of it was occupied by the map, he set it on the bed, carrying the plates over and putting one in front of her while he carried the other to his seat.

Whatever they were eating _this_ time looked just as good.

“What are we eating?”

“Yao guai steak, seagull eggs, and wheatgrain bread.”

If she was being honest, Nora had never even seen a seagull nest—so where the hell had he found the eggs?

“Wait, what about the other part?” she asked, directing to the fourth piece of their meal he hadn’t addressed.

Arthur glanced at their plates as he sat, then sighed in irritation. “Silt beans, apparently. The mess hall officer suggested I include it when I told him what to make and I declined, but apparently he thought it appropriate to do so, anyway.” He shook his head slightly. “It doesn’t fit,” he mumbled.

That… made her pause as she stared at him. “Wait, you plan what we eat? Not just… have someone else plan and cook it?”

He pushed his chair closer to the table before glancing up at her. “I have been planning our meals, yes. Typically, I would cook them myself, but—”

“Wait, you _cook,_ as well!?”

Maxson paused and looked up at her, one eyebrow cocked. “Does that surprise you?”

Oh.

Oh, man. She’d just insulted him.

“Well, I mean… I just…” she started, her face flushing, “You don’t seem like the type of person to uh… to cook.”

“Really?” he asked as he put his elbows on the table, leaning forward just slightly. “And what type of person do I seem like?”

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck.

Abort.

_Abort._

“Elder, I didn’t mean to—”

“General, please. I was joking. You didn’t insult me,” he interrupted, a slight smirk curling the left side of his mouth.

She wanted to punch him so damn bad.

“I… will never get used to that,” she whispered, her shoulders just slightly relaxing though her face remained tato red.

“You will,” he casually replied before taking a sip of his whiskey.

When she turned her attention to him, his eyes were on her again. “How do you know I’ll get used to it?” she challenged.

“People tend to adapt to those they are around long enough.”

Wait—was he saying they were going to be around one another for a long time? Or at least a _while?_

Nora picked up her glass of wine and downed it, and the Elder just slightly raised his eyebrows as he watched before pouring her another glass.

She downed that one, too.

Fuck. This whole meeting-between-faction-leaders thing was really fucking with her.

“So, since we’re waiting until after we’re done eating to finish strategizing, why don’t you tell me about yourself?” he asked.

She downed the third glass.

“Uhhhh…” she started, clearing her throat. Were her ears burning? They felt like they were on _fire._ “What do you—what do you wanna know?”

Arthur shrugged and took a bite of his food. “Whatever you want to tell me. Your life before the bombs, after the bombs. Anything.”

Staring at her plate, the vaultie jabbed at one of the eggs, breaking the yolk and watching it seep out. She wasn’t sure how to answer the question—she’d never been good at talking about herself. Then again, was _anyone_ good at talking about themselves?

Perhaps he realized she was struggling with it, however, because he granted her some sort of mercy by speaking about himself, instead. “I was born in what you would remember as California, just outside of what’s now known as the New California Republic, or NCR. When I was around ten years old, I moved to the Capital Wasteland, which you’d remember as Washington, D.C.”

“Why’d you move?” she asked.

Arthur paused for a moment while he finished chewing his food, his eyes looking off to the side as he seemed to contemplate the question. “A couple reasons, I suppose. There were a lot of internal conflicts in the west coast Brotherhood, which made it unsafe. And after my father died in battle, I apparently became very timid, so my mother felt the best solution for everything was to send me to the Citadel.”

Arthur Maxson? Timid?

_Timid?_

That made no sense.

“You don’t seem like you were ever timid,” she said quietly.

“You’re right, I don’t, but that’s because I learned to adapt to the changes that I found myself in,” he replied, his eyes having fallen to his food again. “I was being groomed, for lack of a better term, to become an Elder from a very young age, so erasing that timidity was something all parties were interested in.” He shrugged one shoulder as he took another bite. 

The mere action said he didn’t care, but something told her otherwise.

“In the end, this is how I came out. Very impressive, I know,” he added, glancing up to her with a slight smirk. It was almost _playful;_ it made her chest ache.

_You have no fucking idea._

“Well, it can’t be easy growing up in the wasteland,” she replied. “Kids don’t exactly get normal childhoods.”

“Perhaps. Then again, what really consists of a normal childhood?”

“Well, you know… neighborhoods and playing with friends and toys. Not having to worry about ghouls or super mutants or becoming Elder. Celebrating Christmas and Halloween and—”

“Is that what it was like during your time?”

Nora paused; her jaw snapped shut. She didn’t… have the greatest childhood. Granted, she didn’t live in poverty and didn’t have to worry about what she would eat for dinner, but her parents…

And when it came to how Shaun’s childhood was? Well, she never even had the chance to give him one.

But she’d never told Arthur about her son.

The vault dweller downed her fourth glass of wine—shit, her ears were feeling _very_ hot now.

”Yeah, I think so,” she answered, her voice slightly cracking. Thankfully, the Elder didn’t push it any further than that, and she was glad; instead, he changed the subject.

“What was your favorite place to visit in Boston before the bombs?”

That allowed her to relax a little as she continued to eat. “Uh, probably the beach, I guess. There was always a, um, a breeze and the—the sunsets were super pretty.”

“The beach over here is nice,” he mumbled in agreement as he took the last bite of his food, setting his utensils down afterward.

She glanced over at him “What, uh… what do you like to cook, anyway?”

“Anything, really,” he answered with a shrug. “Mostly dinner-type meals, but I learned how to cook for any occasion.”

“And you’re… a good cook?”

The slight smirk he gave her made her flush again. “I could let you be the judge of that, if you’d like.”

“Oh, m-me?”

“Sure. I’ll cook for you,” he said nonchalantly—how the fuck did he _do that?_

“Oh,” she whispered. “Well, alright. That’d, uh, that’d be—that’d be nice,” she stammered, taking another sip of her wine.

“Good. Then perhaps next week when you come back?”

Oh.

_Oh._

He was already preparing for another meeting.

Nora nervously laughed and nodded her head. “Y-yeah, okay. That—that sounds good. Next week.”

“Excellent. Now, shall we start working on those trade routes?”

“Yes, definitely,” she answered with relief, glad the subject was being returned to something she was more confident about.

Arthur stood and grabbed both their plates, setting them onto the tray that was left on his bed before returning to her and pulling her chair out to let her stand—but just as she did, her head spun and she lost her balance. The next thing the vaultie knew, a large hand was on her waist steadying her and she was about ready to melt back into her chair at the soft touch.

“Are you alright, General?” he asked from behind her, his voice quiet and concerned; fuck, she wanted to just fall back into him.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just… stood up to fast,” she explained, her words slightly slurred.

“You drank quite a bit of wine fairly quickly,” he observed. “Are you sure you want to continue? We can finish this next time.”

“No, no, I’m good. I just… ya know, need a s-second.”

When his hand slid off her waist, his fingers dragging along her side through her clothing, she couldn’t help the soft sigh that escaped her throat. She wondered how gentle he might be with her in other scenarios—would he savor her as he fucked her? Or would he _devour_ her?

How would those rough hands feel around her throat?

Fuck.

But the ghost feeling of his fingers on her side was still there despite how he’d pulled them away and she just couldn’t _stop thinking about it._

Still, they managed to work out trade routes between her settlements, Arthur doing most of the work because Nora just couldn’t get her mind straight and away from the thought of his tongue and hands. She continuously glanced at his mouth whenever he spoke and even stumbled over and slurred her own words each time she spoke; and by the time they were done, there were items spread along the map signaling trade routes between areas, marking different directions, which he’d completed by drawing lines over.

Permanent lines.

And circling where the settlements were.

The vaultie didn’t think anything of it at first, at least not until she was ready to leave; he’d helped her get her coat on, given her hat back, and then rolled the map up and handed it to her. She stared at it for a long moment before looking at him with a confused expression. “Wait, why are you giving me this?”

“Keep it,” he said.

“But… you need it. It’s your map.”

“I have others, and even if I didn’t, Quinlan would be more than happy to draw more since he keeps records. But this way you have some notes on the routes we set up—and the agreements we made.”

“Oh… well, thank you, Elder Maxson. I really appreciate it.”

“You can call me Arthur, you know.”

Nora looked down at the rolled-up map in her hands, her face flushing. “I didn’t want to be anything but professional.”

A glance up at him showed he had a slight smile on his face— _fuck,_ it always looked so good—before he motioned for her to head toward the door. He accompanied her to the vertibird, like usual, opening doors for her and walking beside her, and once they reached it, they stopped just outside it like before. When she turned to face him, he had that same smile on his face, and she couldn’t help but—

Oh, no.

Oh, fuck, she did it without thinking.

Before she even realized what it was she was doing, Nora was on her tiptoes, pushing her lips against his, one of her hands having slipped to the back of his neck to cup it and pull him down just slightly since he was so damn _tall._

He didn’t push her away, which was a plus, but she wasn’t sure if he was kissing her back or just letting her do her thing because she was a tad tipsy; her heart was in her throat at that point and she couldn’t convince herself to move. But was that his tongue? No, surely that was her own with her… lip. Or something.

But—oh, fuck, she was _forcing herself_ on him. She was _forcing herself_ on a man seven years younger than her who had a much, _much_ stronger military force than she did and who was clearly only interested in being her ally and now—fuckfuckfuckfuck _fuck._

Quickly, Nora pulled away, releasing the back of his neck and instead clinging tightly to the map and cradling it against her chest. “Fuck, I’m so sorry. I didn’t—I shouldn’t have—I just—I—“ she began as she stared up at him with wide eyes.

He didn’t look offended or insulted or anything, just sort of surprised, but that was enough for her to want to retreat.

“Oh, god, I’m gonna go jump off a bridge,” she mumbled; immediately, the General turned on her heel and bolted into the vertibird—but she was almost _certain_ she felt his hands slide off her waist, maybe?—and went to hide inside it. Rather than looking out at him like an idiot, just as she’d done the past two times, she refused to do so now because she knew she’d feel even worse about what she did. Her face was hot, her ears were burning—she’d definitely had a bit too much wine.

Once the vertibird was disconnected from the Prydwen, Nora dared to lean over and peek around the edge of the opening and back out at the Elder—he was still there, watching the ‘bird leave, and… wait, was that her _fucking hat?_ Reaching up, she patted her head a couple times, confirming her hat was no longer atop her head and, fuck, he was really holding it. The damned thing must have fallen off when she kissed him.

But there was no way she was going back to get it now. No way in hell.


	4. Acceptance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There were a lot of things in life Nora found cute—cats, ducks, when people got overly excited about things they enjoyed—but if there was one specific thing she had to pick and say was the cutest she’d ever seen, it would have to be the huge fucking grin that just spread across Arthur Maxson’s face when she complimented his cooking.

Anxiety was coursing through her veins in an icy flow and the only thing she could do to keep her entire body from freezing over because of it was walk around the castle courtyard—at least until the sound of Preston’s voice hit her ears, making her pause.

“General,” he called; Nora turned to look at him. “You’re pacing. What’s wrong?”

“Pacing? Oh.” She glanced away and pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, realizing she’d been a fairly obvious ball of anxiousness on display. “I’m just nervous, I guess.”

“Nervous? About what, your meeting with the Elder?” he asked as he glanced up at the sky in the direction of the Prydwen. “The vertibird should be here soon.”

“Yeah,” she confirmed, nodding her head.

But how did she explain what she was nervous about? She’d become fairly close with Preston over the time she’d been the General of the Minutemen and she’d never hidden anything from him before, but… telling him about what had happened that’d made her a nervous wreck? That was a whole separate thing.

How did she explain her confusion on the way Arthur was acting? How did she explain what happened last week, when she’d gotten herself a bit tipsy on wine— _fucking lightweight_ —and kissed him? How did she explain that she’d made a fool of herself, left her hat on the Prydwen after forcing herself on a man seven years her junior, and now had to go back for their next meeting to retrieve it even though she was a coward who’d done so many goddamn stupid fucking things?

“I’m… conflicted.”

Well. It was a start.

“Go on,” he encouraged, motioning for her to follow him toward a set of chairs that were near the radio in the middle of the courtyard; they walked over to them, both taking a seat, and Nora ran her fingers through her hair as she took a deep breath.

“Okay, so… don’t judge me, but—” she realized that probably wasn’t the best way to start the explanation off _after_ she’d said it, “—I’m very attracted to him.” Her face flushed with her admission.

“Well, yeah, obviously.”

Her cheeks felt _hot._ Like, _extremely hot._ And it was possible she wanted to punch Preston in his stupid fucking face. “I don’t—what do you—I just—”

“Nora, the guy is young, single, and in charge of a massive military organization that gives him immense power. And, yeah, even I’ll admit he’s physically attractive, so _of course_ you’re attracted to him.”

She wasn’t sure if she should feel insulted or not.

“But if you’re this nervous because you’re attracted to him, maybe you should start sending someone else on your behalf,” he added.

“No, that’s not it,” she started, huffing as her eyes turned to the ground; she glared at the dirt, damning it. “It’s… more than that. I told you we’ve been having these meetings every week, but I didn’t tell you all the details.” Taking a deep breath, the vaultie prepared herself to spill everything to him—well, almost everything. “He’s invited me to dinner, yeah, but… it feels different. He’s such a sweetheart. Super polite and a gentleman. Offers to take my coat off, opens doors for me, always walks me to and from the vertibird; it’s all just so… _confusing.”_

A slow grin stretched across Preston’s mouth and he turned in his chair to face her. “Really, now?” he asked while crossing his ankle over his knee. “So, these really _aren’t_ just strategy meetings? I knew it.”

“They are!” she yelped in defense while looking at him with wide eyes. “I mean—they are to _him,_ but I just—I just think I started having a thing for him along the way.” Nora sighed before hunching over and burying her face in her hands, her elbows resting on her knees. “I don’t know, Preston. He’s just… such a sweetheart and everything is so goddamn confusing; and, apparently, he’s been planning our meals, and the last time we met up he said he’d cook for me tonight and—”

“Wait, wait, wait. Nora, you’re joking, right?”

Her head raised so she could look at him. “J-joking? About what?”

“I mean, I thought it was obvious the first time he asked you to _dinner,_ but I guess not—the man is taking you on dates.”

“Dates— _dates?_ No. No, no, no.”

“Yes, General, he’s taking you on dates,” her second-in-command reiterated.

“Preston, come on. There’s no way,” she replied, shaking her head; her face was flushed, and her heart was racing. Why was he doing this? Why was he _teasing_ her like this? It only brought back the shitty fucking memories of high school when her peers did this sort of thing to her back before the bombs—pretending some super attractive person was interested in her, only for it to turn out it was all a joke.

Then again… Preston wasn’t like that.

There was some sort of shock or confusion on his face. “What do you mean _‘there’s no way’?_ There’s absolutely a way!”

“Come on. Me? You’re saying Arthur Maxson, Elder of the Brotherhood of Steel, is taking _me_ on dates?”

He stared at her in confusion. “Why do you think he wouldn’t be interested in you?”

“Uh, have you _seen_ me?” she asked, waving a hand up and down in front of her body to where she was gesturing to her entire self. “And have you seen _him?_ I’m nowhere near his league. The man is a 15 out of 10 and I’m _maybe_ a four, and that’s kind of pushing it.”

The look he gave her was one that said he was unimpressed. “Nora, seriously. You’re a catch whether you think you’re physically attractive or not. I mean, have you seen the way _MacCready_ looks at you?”

“That’s real sweet and all, Preston, but we both know you’d tell me that no matter what I looked like; and MacCready looks at _everyone_ like that. But for someone like _Arthur?_ Nah. Men like Arthur Maxson didn’t date women like me before the bombs and they sure as hell don’t date women like me _after_ the bombs, either.”

“Maybe you just met assholes,” he said, shrugging. “I mean, really, the guy is inviting you to _dinner,_ now he’s offering to _cook for you._ He voluntarily helped you set up trade routes, which, by the way, I am _offended_ that you didn’t even consult me for that—”

“Oh, come on,” she grumbled.

“—And he’s apparently acting all _‘gentlemanly’?_ Taking your coat off, opening doors, doing more than just the regular polite stuff? How are you this _blind,_ Nora? What does he need to do to make it more obvious to you? Kiss you? Outright say _‘I’m taking you on dates, General Nora Parker’?”_

She pursed her lips; being kissed by the man sure sounded good, but she knew it wouldn’t happen. “I am not _blind,_ Preston,” she growled. “I’m just aware that he’s not interested in me. These are just meetings between two faction leaders, that’s all.”

“Then why are you nervous?”

“Because I _kissed him_ —oh, fuck.”

Preston sat up straight, eyes wide, and _stared at her_ with a wide grin on his face. _“Really?”_

Her face was back in her hands immediately. “Okay, look, I got a little drunk on wine and might have _forced myself_ on him.”

“And let me guess,” her friend started, “He was just being polite and that’s why he didn’t push you away, huh?”

She shot him a glare. _“Yes.”_

Her second-in-command rolled his eyes as his grin broadened. “Whatever you say, General.”

The sound of the vertibird approaching in the distance cut off the conversation, thankfully, which gave her some relief. A quick glance to Preston was made before they both stood, and she found herself colliding with his chest in a hug, his arms wrapping around her in response as he held her. If there was one thing she learned throughout her life, it was that physical contact helped quell her anxiety—and, fortunately, Preston was fine with that.

“I’m nervous,” she whispered against him as if they hadn’t just been bickering seconds ago.

His hand rubbed up and down her back. “Everything is fine. I’m sure if it wasn’t, he wouldn’t have asked you to come earlier in the day or even at all.”

“Yeah… maybe you’re right,” she admitted, sighing.

“Besides, I know you left your hat back there,” he added—oh, fuck; she looked up at him with wide eyes. “So, you’d better go get it or else I’ll be _really_ upset. You can’t be a proper General without the General’s hat, you know.”

“Alright, alright… sorry.”

The vertibird came into view then, slowly lowering itself into the courtyard, and Nora pulled away from him, though she remained by his side, waiting for the machine to finally touch the ground. Once it did, he walked her to the ‘bird.

“Alright, General. Enjoy your date.”

She nearly punched him.

══════════════════

Nora took deep breaths to calm herself as the airport came into view, trying to prepare for the awkward moment of seeing Arthur Maxson again after what had happened only a week ago. Would he feel weird around her? Would he _act_ weird around her? Would he mention the kiss? Would he judge her for it? Or would he just pretend it never happened?

But as they grew closer, they never made the ascent to the blimp, instead continuing past it.

“Where—where are we going?” she asked the lancer—he was the same one who’d been flying her back and forth from the castle since the first time she’d started reporting to the Elder over a month ago.

“The beach,” he answered, glancing back at her. “Elder Maxson gave me direct orders to take you to the beach instead of the Prydwen.”

The… beach.

Why?

Why the hell would he want them to go to the—

_“What was your favorite place to visit in Boston before the bombs?”_

_That allowed her to relax a little as she continued to eat. “Uh, probably the beach, I guess. There was always a, um, a breeze and the—the sunsets were super pretty.”_

_“The beach over here is nice,” he mumbled in agreement as he took the last bite of his food, setting his utensils down afterward._

Oh, fuck.

It suddenly made much more sense why they were meeting a few hours earlier than usual, too.

“We’re settin’ down, General,” the lancer said. “Hold on.”

Nora’s heart was in her throat, thumping and pounding and threatening to explode as she latched onto the handle, though it wasn’t from the flight this time. “Lancer Kim, right?” she asked.

He glanced back at her again, surprise on his face as if he didn’t expect her to know his name. “Oh, uh… yeah, that’s me,” he confirmed.

“I have a question and I’d appreciate it if you’d be honest with me.”

Nervousness washed over the surprise, but he returned his attention to setting the vertibird on the beach. “Uhhh… okay…”

“I know he’s your boss—I mean, your Elder—but—”

“Oh, no,” he whispered.

“—This is really confusing for me and I just need someone to tell me—what is he doing?”

“Um,” he hesitated, laughing nervously while switching some controls; the ‘bird jostled a little. “General, I’m not sure I’m the one you should ask.”

“Just… please, Kim. Help me out. What does all of this mean? Why is he doing this? Are these _dates?”_

The lancer flubbed just as the vertibird landed on the ground. “Look, I really—”

“General.”

Arthur’s voice calling her title over the whirring blades of the ‘bird made her stiffen and she quickly turned to face his direction, seeing him approach as it was winding down.

Oh, god.

Oh, fuck.

He looked _good._

It wasn’t that he was wearing anything different than usual—he still had on the same type of Brotherhood officer flight suit and that nice ass battle coat that she knew would engulf her if she ever got the chance to wear it, nor had he gotten a different haircut, but it was that he’d _trimmed his beard._

And holy fucking hell did he look good as fuck. He looked more his age, better well-groomed; the scars on his face were more apparent but they accentuated his features. It suddenly dawned on her the reason he probably grew his beard out was likely to hide them or at least distract from them and to probably even make himself look older, but, shit, he looked fucking _sexy_ either way.

“I’m glad you came,” he told her.

_Buddy, you have no idea how much I wanna cum right now—_

“Of course,” she replied after getting pulled out of her own head, realizing she’d just been staring at him with her mouth open like a fucking dumbass. “We, uh—we planned a meeting, after all. Why wouldn’t I show up?”

Rather than answering, he gave her that same slight smile that always made her nearly melt into a puddle at his boots, then extended his hand, offering to help her out of the vertibird. She took it, of course, but glanced back at the lancer—who was refusing to look at her, apparently—before stepping out and onto the sandy ground. Maxson led her away from the ‘bird and, though she wasn’t sure where they were going, they walked through the skeleton of a large, prewar plane; and once they came through the other end of it, they’d managed to reach the shoreline and were met with—

Oh, fuck.

Fuckfuckfuck.

There was a small, round table and two chairs on either end set in the sand not too far from the water, a bucket on the ground on one side and a basket on the other; a covered plate was set on the table in front of each chair, and beneath either dish was… a hotplate? And it looked like both hotplates were connected to a single fusion core in the center of the table, providing them power.

Holy fucking hell.

Approaching the table, he helped her remove her coat, which he then promptly folded and placed in the basket with her hat and his own battle coat before pulling her chair out for her to sit. Really, she was surprised he took his coat off, especially since they were outside—there didn’t seem to be any soldiers around, but that must have meant the area was cleared out prior, or at least that there were patrols off in the distance nearby. Someone like Arthur Maxson wouldn’t have been so careless.

When he reached over and uncovered her plate, and then his own, setting the covers off to the side, Nora could only stare at her food with a cocktail of confusion, surprise, and amazement. Arthur had said he was cooking for them today, but _this…_ this was something else.

“You… cooked this?” she whispered, looking up at him.

“I did,” he answered. “Deathclaw steak in caramelized brahmin butter sauce, wheatgrain spaghetti with white sauce, and silt beans. I hope you like it.”

Nora’s mouth was watering just from the smell of what was in front of her.

This sort of food looked like what rich people ate before the bombs when resources were being fought over—something that cost a hell of a lot of money at fancy restaurants and yet, when ordered, there was barely any food on the plate. But Arthur had actually cooked quite a bit. Still, it reminded her of… filet mignon? No, that wasn’t possible.

No way.

She’d remembered eating that once before in her past life when she and Nate had attended a military conference he’d been invited to as a guest speaker after returning from Alaska the month prior—but rather than praising the military and their actions like they thought he’d do, he, instead, railed against them. But they got some good ass food out of it that they didn’t even have to pay for, so there was that.

But Maxson must have put a lot of effort into making this; there was no way this was something that was quick and easy to cook. It had to have taken _time,_ which meant he was taking time out of his day to cook _for her._

_Why,_ though?

Was Preston correct?

No. No, no, no.

Arthur leaned down and grabbed something from the bucket beside the table—a wine bottle, she’d come to recognize—and uncapped it, pouring some of the thick red liquid into the glass that was in front of her plate; and only then did she realize another difference: she had an _actual wine glass_ rather than just a regular glass like the last two times they’d had dinner. That meant he’d either had perfectly good wine glasses stored away somewhere and only just now brought them out or he’d actively went out and found intact ones to drink from.

For her.

Fuuuuuuck.

Maybe Preston _was_ correct.

Nonononononono.

Nora took a sip of her wine, resisting the urge to down the entire glass. She definitely did _not_ want a repeat of what happened last time and if she had to internally threaten herself to ensure that didn’t happen, then so be it.

But she must have just been sitting there for a bit too long, staring at her food, contemplating what everything meant, because the sensation of eyes on her, burning into her skin much deeper than any amount of radiation ever could suddenly hit her like a super mutant swinging a super sledge. The vaultie glanced up and was met with his gaze as he stared at her.

Waiting.

She blinked a few times before glancing down at her food again, then back at him, then back at her food, then back at him, then—oh.

_Oh._

He was waiting for her to try the food—oh, god, he was _waiting for her to try the fucking food._ Did that mean he was trying to _impress her!?_

No, no, that couldn’t be the case.

Swallowing hard, the General picked up her silverware and carefully cut into the steak, taking a bite. She glanced up at Arthur again—he was _still_ staring—as she chewed and… oh, fuck, it was _so goddamn good,_ she had to keep herself from moaning because that _definitely_ would have been weird as hell. The man was talented at cooking, there was no denying that.

When she nodded her head, he very visibly _perked up,_ which was just goddamn adorable. “It’s good, then?” he asked.

Her face flushed and she only answered after swallowing the bite she’d taken, nodding again. “Yeah, it’s extremely good.”

There were a lot of things in life Nora found cute—cats, ducks, when people got overly excited about things they enjoyed—but if there was one specific thing she had to pick and say was the cutest she’d ever seen, it would have to be the huge fucking _grin_ that just spread across Arthur Maxson’s face when she complimented his cooking. The feature upturned his left cheek more than his right, likely due to the scar that began beneath his right eye and extended down into his beard, which she had a feeling probably left him with a lopsided smile and might be one of the reasons he didn’t smile much—but holy fucking shit that grin was just the cutest thing she’d ever seen.

She watched as he picked up his silverware and began to cut into his food but that grin never lessened even the slightest, showing pearly white teeth that she just could not stop staring at—he had such a pretty fucking smile, too. And, fuck, this was the biggest smile she’d ever seen from him, as well.

Yeah, definitely the cutest thing she’d ever seen.

They were quiet for a few moments, though Arthur kept glancing up at her—and as uncomfortable as it made her to have him keep looking at her as if he was waiting for something or expecting something, it also made her cheeks flush from the attention.

But, like their other date, she couldn’t take the silence.

And she needed to know for sure what this was, but she wasn’t about to ask _directly._

“So, uh… what are we, um, gonna talk about today?” Nora asked quietly.

Maxson hummed for a moment as he finished chewing his food, his eyes remaining on her. “I want to know more about you.”

Oh, god.

Oh, fuck.

“What, uh, what—what about me?” she asked, her voice cracking like a goddamn teenage girl. Shit, her cheeks felt even hotter than before; she drank some of her wine, though she was still consciously making sure she didn’t down the entire glass in one go. Maybe just half the glass. 

“What do you like to do in your free time?”

“Fr-free time? Like… my hobbies?”

“Mhm,” he confirmed as he took a sip of his whiskey.

“Um… well,” she started, but paused in thought—what _did_ she like to do anymore? Most things she enjoyed before the bombs weren’t really an option now. “Before all of… well, all of _this,”_ she motioned to everything around them, “I spent a lot of my time devoted to political activism. Protesting the war and stuff. That wasn’t really a hobby, more so a necessity, but it took up a lot of my free time.”

She glanced up at him, seeing how he was nodding his head while he didn’t question anything on the subject—she was fairly thankful for that, realizing a bit too late that she shouldn’t have brought up prewar politics, especially at the moment since things were going well. They lived in postwar America, after all, and she wasn’t entirely sure the complexities of different political ideologies that had existed before the war would really be understood anymore since there weren’t really any books out there, most having been destroyed by the American government if they were deemed anti-American by any means and nearly all the rest getting destroyed by nuclear bombs. In the end, that meant the overwhelming majority of information on any other political ideology was negative and solely propaganda the United States specifically put out, so would someone like Arthur—or anyone, really—even recognize it as propaganda? Or would he see her as the enemy if he found out she was a—

Whatever, it didn’t matter anymore.

“I also liked cross-stitching.”

That must have caught him off guard—which, to be fair, it was a very abrupt change from political activism—because he looked up at her with a cocked eyebrow. “What is that?” he asked.

“You don’t know what—oh. It’s… like making pictures or words out of thread in another type of fabric.”

“Oh, I see,” he said, taking another bite. “What sort of pictures?”

It was… strange to see someone genuinely _interested_ in hearing her talk about her hobbies, especially when they were prewar, and especially when it was as boring as something as _cross-stitching._ Arthur had his full attention on her other than the fact he was eating, his eyes focused on her face besides when he glanced down at his food, and it made her feel… important. Wanted?

“Anything, really. Mostly things that aren’t too detailed. If I had a needle and different colored thread, I’d be able to show you, but that’s sort of difficult to find.”

“We have needles and thread on the Prydwen, if you’d like to use them.”

“Oh… really? I mean, are you sure? I can find thread elsewhere; I just really need a needle.”

“Of course, feel free to help yourself. I told you that you’re more than welcome to anything on my ship.”

Nora perked up, grinning wide and nearly matching the grin he’d shown her earlier. He was giving her access to tools that would allow her to do something that helped her anxiety in the past—she used to cross-stitch whenever she was feeling extremely overwhelmed, the hobby helping her relax and significantly reducing her stress at the end of the day. If she was able to start doing it again, she’d certainly feel better.

“Thank you, Elder Maxson. That’s very kind of you—I greatly appreciate it.”

“I believe I told you last time to start calling me ‘Arthur,’” he said teasingly.

Nora’s face flushed a deep red. “O-oh. Sorry, I just… I’m trying to remain professional.” When he raised one eyebrow just slightly while he studied her face, she felt her cheeks burn even more. “S-so, what are, uh—what are _your_ hobbies?” she asked, trying to change the subject over to him.

The left corner of his mouth curved upward a little. “I enjoy playing chess, mostly,” he answered. “I was taught how to play from a young age and have enjoyed it ever since.”

“Oh. I never actually learned how to play,” she quietly admitted.

Blinking, the Elder looked almost taken aback. “Really?”

She didn’t think it was possible, but her face turned an even deeper shade of red—she felt like a fucking idiot. What kind of person didn’t know how to play chess? Nate knew how to play and everyone she’d known before the bombs knew. Hell, Preston probably knew how to play, as well. Part of her felt like Maxson was about to make fun of her or something—

“I could teach you.”

Oh.

“Teach me? To play chess?”

“Of course. It’s not difficult to learn how to play, the harder part is just determining what strategies to use. But I’d be more than happy to teach you, if you’d like.”

There was a brief image that flashed in her mind of Arthur leaning over her from behind, his chest against her back, groin against her ass, while he was teaching her how to play chess… apparently exactly like someone would teach her how to play billiards, because that made complete sense.

“Yeah, sure. I’d like that.”

He grinned again—fuck, it was such a gorgeous sight—before setting his silverware down and leaning back in his seat like he had the past two times they ate dinner together, his hands crossing over his lower stomach; she couldn’t help but look him over.

Slowly.

Fuck.

When her eyes were back at his face, they were met by his own—she’d been caught looking at him.

No, not just _looking at him,_ but _looking him over._

Fuck.

Fuckfuckfuck.

Nora’s face flushed even more than before, the freckles that were splashed across her nose and cheeks nearly disappearing beneath the red tint as she immediately looked down at her food and took another bite, having almost finished eating. What the fuck was _wrong_ with her!?

“So,” he started; her heart nearly stopped at the mere word, thinking he was about to mention how he’d just caught her looking his body over, “Have you started implementing the new trade routes?” he asked.

She visibly relaxed.

Nodding, Nora kept her eyes on her food. “Yeah, we have. It’ll take a little time to, uh, to get it all straightened out, but it’s already started,” she answered, glancing up at him before setting her silverware down. “And really, I uh—I want to thank you for your help. It… is greatly appreciated. I’m still trying to get used to all of this. Being here, in the wasteland.”

The smile he gave her was not like the slight ones she’d seen before nor like the grin he’d given her earlier—but it was a real, genuine smile, and it made her chest ache. “Of course, General. It was my pleasure to help, and I’ll gladly continue to do so as you gain more settlements, if you’d like.”

She bit her bottom lip for a second, noticing how he looked down at her mouth when she did. “You can… call me ‘Nora.’ You know, since you want me to call you ‘Arthur.’”

His smile broadened, his teeth showing now. “Very well, Nora.”

Oh, fuck, the way her name sounded coming from his lips was just incredible; her cheeks started burning again. 

Arthur glanced at her plate, seeming to have noticed she’d finished eating, and leaned down to the basket where he’d set their coats; he pulled them out, grabbing something that was beneath them—a blanket?—before he returned the coats to where they were, standing up from his seat afterward. Moving a few feet away from the table and a bit closer to the water, as well as beside a blue crate that was halfway buried in the sand, he unfolded the blanket—it was just some ugly green military one she’d seen being used on all the beds on the Prydwen—and laid it out on the sand.

What the hell was he doing?

Well, whatever he was doing, he was giving her a nice view of his ass when he bent over.

The Elder turned back to her, giving that same genuine smile that was making her nearly _melt_ in her chair, and he approached, pulling her seat out to allow her to stand, then guided her over to the blanket.

Oh, god, was he—

“You said you enjoyed watching the sunsets on the beach before the war, which was why I had us meet earlier than our usual time,” he explained as he held a hand out, offering to help her lower herself to sit on the blanket.

Nora hesitated but accepted, sitting down with his assistance, and Arthur moved to sit beside her, his legs outstretched in front of him while he leaned back against the crate. He seemed relaxed—way too relaxed compared to her since she was just a ball of anxiety at the moment. Hell, she was nearly _shaking_ with nervousness.

Preston had said these were dates and maybe he was correct. Maybe Arthur _was_ taking her on dates—but now… what did he want out of this? Out of _this specific moment?_ What was he expecting from her right then and there? Because laying out a blanket on the beach where they were sitting to watch the sunset… she’d seen enough prewar movies to know how this went. And, sure, she’d thought about fucking him numerous times—thought about sitting on his face, his cock down her throat, his hands around her neck, and so many other things—but… men like Arthur Maxson didn’t date women like Nora Parker.

And they _certainly_ didn’t _fuck_ women like her.

Right?

But… he didn’t make a move and instead just sat there, his gaze remaining on the sun as it was setting over the watery horizon. She couldn’t determine if she wanted to keep her attention on him or the sunset, but she knew she didn’t often take time to enjoy the smaller things in life anymore—and now… well, now, he was giving her that chance.

Fuck, he was giving her a lot of things she hadn’t really had before, or at least hadn’t really had _much_ of before, or didn’t have much of _anymore._

Sunsets.

Romance.

_Dates._

She and her late husband had never went on dates, not really. They never really had romance like this; their relationship was something different—a different sort of connection. But now…

Nora turned her eyes to the setting sun, watching as the sky was turning into shades of pink and blue and purple, the water reflecting the orange tint of the sphere in the distance. It was gorgeous, that was for certain, and she missed those few times when she’d been at the beach before the bombs, watching as the sun disappeared for the night.

She wasn’t sure when she’d scooted closer to him or when she’d rested her head against his shoulder or even when his arm had wrapped around her waist, but she was so enraptured by the moment that she just didn’t care. This was… well, it was good. Great. _Perfect._ And she didn’t want it to end. Fuck all the anxiety that had been haunting her up until now. 

Just like the last time she was this close to him, she realized he smelled so damn _good._ There was a hint of whiskey and cigar smoke—which, admittedly, she wasn’t fond of, but they weren’t very strong smells—but something else overtook the rest; something much better that just drew her in, and she found herself closing her eyes and breathing his scent in, relishing in just how good he smelled and how comfortable this was.

How… nice it was.

How good it felt to be close to someone again.

She missed this.

Her body had turned slightly toward him as she was curled against his side, her head having moved to rest against the side of his chest while he held her close; and as the sun disappeared over the horizon, they remained sitting together for a long while, though neither made a move to take it any further. It was confusing and slightly disappointing since Nora had thought about him night after night, but it was also… a relief?

Arthur was going above and beyond for her, doing all sorts of things _just for her,_ and she found herself coming to appreciate everything now for what it was.

These were _dates._

Fuck.

Maxson eventually turned on a dim lantern he’d placed in the sand beside the blanket, giving them a small amount of light after darkness had completely encapsulated the beach.

“We should, ah, we should probably go, I guess,” she whispered.

“Yes,” he quietly replied, though neither of them made a move to get up.

They’d been there for a while and she knew he had other things to do—he was an Elder in the Brotherhood of Steel, after all—and she needed to go back to the castle, anyway; but it seemed both of them were reluctant to leave. Or, at least Nora was, and she certainly hoped Arthur was feeling the same way and that it wasn’t one-sided.

But after a few more moments of just laying against his side, she finally started to pull away, giving him the room to move and stand. He did, then helped her up before going to the table and grabbing her coat and hat from the basket—she definitely stared at his ass while he walked because _fuck_ —but walked her to the vertibird before helping her into her coat, moving to stand in front of her afterward.

Their eyes met, but her hat was still in his hands.

“Next week again?” he asked, his voice quiet.

She wasn’t entirely sure, but it looked like there might have been a slight flush that was peeking out from beneath his beard—though it was too dark to really tell. “Yeah, I’d like that,” she whispered.

“Good,” he replied.

Maxson’s free hand raised then and, ever so gently, he brushed red locks of hair from her face, tucking them behind her ear; his fingers slowly trailed down her jaw afterward until the side of his index finger and the pad of his thumb caught her chin and tipped her head up a bit more so she was looking at him—and she was so sure he was going to kiss her. Fuck, she was ready for it; her heart was racing, she’d even raised herself to her tiptoes—

But, instead, he just gently placed her hat on her head.

“Until then, General,” he said quietly.

Fuck.


	5. Castle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His beard was still trimmed short, which she _definitely_ liked, but that wasn’t what caught her attention this time. No, what caught her attention was his difference in attire. He still wore his battle coat, of course, but the black officer’s flight suit had been swapped out for a pair of dark jeans and a dark grey V-neck shirt that went down far enough to let just a little bit of chest hair peek out.

Breathe.

Breathe.

Fucking breathe, Nora.

No, she _couldn’t_ breathe because she’d made a huge mistake—a horrible, irreversible mistake. Or maybe it was reversible. Maybe she could walk out into the ocean, find a mirelurk queen, and sacrifice herself to the beast and then everything would be fine. Then she wouldn’t have to deal with the fact she’d invited Arthur fucking Maxson to the castle, saying _she’d_ cook for _him_ despite how she was never a great cook before the bombs and despite how she _also_ hadn’t gotten the hang of cooking with postwar food and stoves that didn’t work right.

Fuck.

But it was too late, because she’d sent word with Danse that morning to inform the Elder she wanted them to meet at the castle instead of the Prydwen, and Danse had reported back that Arthur agreed. Now, he was due to arrive in thirty minutes, and Nora was pacing around the kitchen, panicking, because she was _certain_ she’d made a mistake on choosing what to cook for their dinner.

The name of the dish was intimidating, sure, but how hard could it have been to make _scrambled fucking eggs in a tin?_

Okay, so it turned out it was not scrambled eggs. Sure, it involved deathclaw eggs, but they were not scrambled, and the recipe did not include just the egg. Nora had gone out of her way to find two eggs, killing an actual deathclaw and harvesting its meat, then bringing back whatever she could and keeping what she wanted for the meal she planned to cook. Everything went fine, for the most part, even though she somewhat struggled with making the dough, and things still seemed fairly, well, _okay…_ but she was just worried she was going to fucking _burn_ it all.

Still, it was worth a shot.

But when the sound of a vertibird approaching caught her attention, an icy chill went up her spine as another wave of panic shot through her. 

No.

No, no, _no._

He was fucking _early._

Nora turned to face the doorway, her eyes wide, and she just _stared_ at it for a long moment, debating on what to do, how to react to the Elder arriving early… _fuck._

“Preston!” she shouted at the top of her lungs. 

The sound of footsteps sprinting in the distance echoed through the narrow hallway and grew louder as her second-in-command approached, nearly tumbling around the corner when he came into the kitchen, out of breath, eyes wide with panic while he looked at her with worry. “What!? What happened!? Are you okay!?” he asked, panting.

“He’s early,” she whispered.

“He’s—” the Minuteman’s eyebrows furrowed as he stared at her in confusion, but once the realization of what she was talking about hit him—likely from hearing the approaching vertibird—he pursed his lips. “The Elder?”

“Yes.”

“You… made me run halfway across the castle because the Elder is a little early?”

“… Yes.”

“Nora…” he said with a heavy sigh, his shoulders relaxing. “You are a good friend and an amazing General, but I swear there are times where I want to throw you into a mirelurk nest.”

Swallowing hard, she wished he _would_ throw her into one. “What do I do?”

“Go greet him? It sounds like the vertibird is about to land.”

“But—”

“Go. Greet. Him.”

“Okay… okay, you’re right.”

But the sound of sprinting footsteps was heard _again,_ and both Nora and Preston paused as they listened—at least until MacCready came barreling around the corner and straight into the Colonel. 

“What’s wro—” the mercenary started before he collided with the other man, taking both of them straight to the ground.

All Nora could do was stare with wide eyes before her hands raised to cover her mouth.

“Jesus, MacCready!” Preston yelled, pushing the younger man off him as they both started getting to their feet.

“Sorry, sorry! I just… I heard Nora yelling and thought something was wrong,” he explained.

Everyone went quiet for a second.

“Wait… why did it take you so long to get here?” the General asked, realizing the timeframe didn’t make much sense.

“… I had to find my pants.”

“Why didn’t you—actually, you know what? Nevermind. I have to go greet the Elder.”

“The El—oh, god, you didn’t invite _him_ here, did you?” Mac asked, his face disgusted, but he followed after her and Preston as the two started to leave the kitchen.

Great.

Just great.

“Mac, we talked about this,” Nora grumbled.

“We did, but I didn’t think you’d actually follow through!”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because he’s—he’s—he’s—he’s _him!”_

Nora stopped walking and turned around, but it was too quick, apparently, as MacCready was directly behind her, his chest colliding with hers as she did and nearly sending her toppling over just as he had done to Preston not long before, but she was only sent stumbling a couple steps back, instead. “RJ,” she growled, warning him.

But the mercenary stared down at her, eyes narrowed. He wasn’t nearly as tall as Arthur, mostly average height, but Nora was _short,_ so she always had to look up at everyone else—however, that sort of took away her intimidation factor. 

“Do not cause a scene. I doubt he even remembers you.”

“I am not going to _cause a scene,”_ he grumbled, using air quotes. “I just don’t like him, and I know you could do better than some tin can leader.”

She glanced at Preston who gave her a look that almost said, _‘I told you so,’_ then crinkled her nose before returning her gaze to Mac. “Look, I _like_ him, okay? He’s kind and sweet and I want this to go well, so please don’t do anything stupid. Please, Mac.”

MacCready narrowed his eyes a bit more and pursed his lips, his gaze flicking back and forth between her and Preston as if he was trying to decide on whether he wanted to listen or not, but he eventually huffed as his eyes settled on Nora. _“Fine._ But if he recognizes me and says something about it, then I’m not responsible for what happens after that.”

Rolling her eyes, Nora turned back around. “Sure thing, RJ.”

The vertibird set down on the courtyard, its blades winding down before Arthur hopped out of it, coming into her view; immediately, she perked up at the sight of him, a wide grin stretching across her face—but then her eyes grew wide, lips parting just slightly.

Oh, fuck.

His beard was still trimmed short, which she _definitely_ liked, but that wasn’t what caught her attention this time. No, what caught her attention was his difference in attire. He still wore his battle coat, of course, but the black officer’s flight suit had been swapped out for a pair of dark jeans and a dark grey V-neck shirt that went down far enough to let just a little bit of chest hair peek out.

Fuckfuckfuck.

Nora squeezed her thighs together.

“Damn,” Preston whispered behind her. “He, uh… he do that for you?”

“Yes, I,” she cleared her throat, “I think so.”

The Elder approached them, a slight smile on his face, and Nora was nearly melting into the dirt at the sight of it—at the sight of _him._ Fuck, he looked so good.

“Nora,” he greeted.

Her knees nearly gave out beneath her.

“Ar-Arthur,” she said, staring at his face and _trying so fucking hard_ not to look at where the dip in his shirt was showing his chest hair. This was… going to be difficult. “You’re, uh… you’re early.”

“Habit of a soldier,” he explained.

That made sense. Nate was the same way—always preferred being early rather than late or even on time; it made for even earlier mornings, which she hated.

But when he held something out to her—a bottle—her gaze dropped to it. “I brought you this. Wasn’t sure if you had any, so I figured I’d bring some, just in case,” Maxson explained. 

Taking it, her eyes scanned the label—oh, Jesus, it was wine dated from _centuries before the war._ Where the hell had he found this?

Fuck.

Preston cleared his throat, catching her attention and taking away some of that awkwardness as she clutched the bottle to her chest, cradling it protectively. 

“Oh, um,” Nora started, glancing back at her second-in-command. “Uh, Arthur, I’m sure you remember Colonel Preston Garvey.” The two men shook hands, and as their eyes were on one another, her own took a peek at his chest. Damnit.

“Pleased to see you again, Colonel Garvey,” Maxson said.

“Likewise. And, please, call me Preston.”

“Arthur.”

Biting her lip, she glanced over to Preston, but that was when there was _another_ person clearing their throat, this one doing so with irritation, and her attention turned to MacCready, finding him standing there with his arms crossed over his chest, waiting expectantly. Because of course he was. Shit.

“Ah… Arthur, this is MacCready. MacCready, this is Arthur Maxson.”

Mac narrowed his eyes as Arthur extended his hand, glaring down at it before glancing back at the Elder’s face and repeating the action a few times. Nora glared at the mercenary from where she stood, sending him a warning look, and he glanced back at her before crinkling his nose, then took ahold of the Elder’s hand and shook it.

“Pleasure to meet you, MacCready,” Maxson greeted, such a damn gentleman.

“Yeah, yeah. Likewise,” RJ mumbled.

“Al _right,”_ Nora interrupted. “Preston, why don’t you take Mac somewhere else that’s really far away, and Arthur, you come with me while I go check on dinner?”

Her second-in-command grabbed ahold of RJ’s shoulder, yanking the mercenary a bit until he finally let go of the other man’s hand and stepped back a little, getting led off by the Minuteman. Nora, however, led Arthur toward where the kitchen was—only to see someone running out of the hallway that led to it.

“Uh, General?” they called; her heart sank. “Something in here is smoking.”

Oh, god.

Oh, no.

Oh, _fuck._

Quickly, Nora darted away from the Elder and started toward the kitchen, running inside to find the oven had thick, black smoke coming out of it. She grabbed an oven mitt that was mostly still intact and opened the door that held their food, then pulled out the two metal tins inside, setting them atop the stove. Their contents were… burnt, to say the least, and that was just the _top._ She didn’t even want to know how it looked on the inside.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” she whined, her shoulders drooping as she stared at the two tins. She’d fucked up—she’d fucked up _bad._ What were they supposed to eat _now?_ She’d tried to make something nice for her and Arthur since he’d cooked dinner last time, but, instead, she’d just fucked it all up and now they had nothing to eat.

Great.

Just fucking great.

“Is everything alright?”

The voice came from behind her and she startled, spinning around to see Arthur enter the room, his nose slightly crinkled at the smell of smoke; fuck, that just made her feel even _worse._ But she couldn’t really blame him—it did smell horrible. Burnt deathclaw eggs weren’t pleasant.

“Yes. No. I just—” she paused and sighed heavily, pulling the mitt off her hand and throwing it onto the floor, then covering her face with her palms. “I fucked it up. I tried to make something for us to eat and I just… fucked it all up.”

“What were you trying to make?” he asked as he approached, glancing behind her to see the burnt food inside the two tins.

“Some… deathclaw egg things. It doesn’t matter—what matters is that I burned it, which means we don’t have anything to eat. I fucked it up.”

“That’s alright, it’s not a big deal.”

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes—how was he just so uncaring about this? “No, it _is_ a big deal! You cooked last time and—and I wanted to cook this time, but this postwar food just… it doesn’t make any sense to me. And the stove is fucking useless.”

His hand was gently on her lower back, palm rubbing along her spine; it was calming, to say the least, and it convinced her to drop her hands from her face despite how a few tears had slid down her cheeks. “We don’t need to eat, Nora. It’s not a big deal.”

“But… then what are we going to do?” she asked.

Arthur shrugged. “Why don’t you give me a tour of the castle? I’ve never been here before.”

She bit her lower lip, thinking on it for a second, but nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”

Nora took him around the castle, showing him the different areas: the armory, communal area, medbay, shops, and the progress on the wall since he’d lent some soldiers to help out, which they were _almost_ finished repairing. He’d sent Danse and Rhys, as well as a couple other men, though both Preston and Cait seemed to be enjoying Danse’s company. Not that she could blame them, considering the paladin was working without a shirt most of the time; hell, even _Nora_ found herself staring at him occasionally. He was tall and lean, had chest hair that disappeared into his flight suit… she often found herself wondering exactly how Arthur looked in comparison since her mind always wandered back to the Elder. Fuck.

When the sky started growing darker, she took him up to one side of the castle that had a much better view of the sunset, and they sat on the edge of the wall in the corner, watching as the sun went down just like they had during their last date. The General found herself leaning against him again, her head on his shoulder while his arm wrapped around her waist, holding her close against his side. Of course, this time, they didn’t have food, but she had snatched them some glasses so they could drink the wine he’d brought. They weren’t the fancy wine glasses like he’d had, but they still worked fine as they sat on either side of them.

And the wine was _good._

Before the sun went down completely, however, and after Nora found her eyes closed while she relaxed against a very comfortable Arthur Maxson, their moment was ruined by loud noises—specifically _yelling._

Yelling about ‘tin cans.’

Damnit.

Lifting her head, she turned to look behind them, seeing smoke from a fire pit rising from the courtyard. The Minutemen must have been cooking something to eat while Mac was drinking—hopefully not doing the cooking himself—and then ended up drinking a little _too much_ and found himself getting upset over Arthur being at the castle. Because why not.

Sighing, she glanced up at the Elder who, surprisingly, seemed unbothered, and was just looking down at her with a slight smile that curved into his left cheek. 

“Do you, um… do you maybe want to go to my—my room? It’ll be a lot, uh… a lot quieter in there. I can show you the routes I’ve been working on implementing. The—the ones you helped… with.”

He gave a nod, his smile broadening just slightly. “Sure, that sounds good,” he replied before pushing himself to his feet and holding his hand out to her, offering to help her up; Nora took his hand and stood, then bent over to grab her wine from the ground—but when she stood back up and turned to face him, his eyes had quickly flicked to her face from having been looking down.

Was he… just caught looking at her ass?

Karma. 

Her face flushed and she clutched the glass to her chest before ducking her head and leading him toward her quarters.

_“And where isss that tintin can leader now, huh? With the m-most beautiful girl in the w-world, that’s where! Gettin’ his rocksss off!”_

Cursing beneath her breath, the General beelined into the halls, avoiding RJ as he drunkenly stumbled around the courtyard; Arthur followed, glancing out through the small windows and doorways as they walked past. But as soon as they were at her door, she darted inside with him, shutting it right after.

It was _mostly_ silent. They could still hear MacCready rambling on out there, though it was muffled; he’d likely end up quieting down some time soon, if not because he passed out, then because he lost interest or because Preston lured him elsewhere.

Taking off her coat, she set it on one of the dressers before turning to face him. “So, uh… oh, the map. It’s—it’s over here,” she said, motioning to the table and walking to it. 

Arthur took off his coat, as well, neatly folding it and setting it beside hers—she _really_ had to resist looking at him now because, fuck, the new clothes were showing off different parts of his body she hadn’t seen before—and followed her, standing beside but slightly behind her. Nora pointed to a few points on the map, some markers being laid out to signify which routes had been started—about half of them had something marking them.

“Preston and I started working on this one most recently,” she said, pointing to Taffington Boathouse, “Since this is still our newest location. We’re hoping you’re still willing to work with us on Spectacle Island, though?”

The voice she expected to come from beside her did not come from that direction, however, but instead from _behind_ her as Arthur was… much closer than she realized. She felt the heat of his body nearly pressing against her back as he moved nearer, his palms pressing flat on the table on either side of her while he leaned over, and she could feel his breath in her ear as he spoke.

“That’s this one right here, correct?” he asked, lifting one hand to tap his finger on the island’s location on the map. 

“Uh… um… y-yes. That’s—that’s the one.”

“I don’t see why we can’t get started immediately.”

His voice was low and husky in her ear and she nearly _melted_ at his feet, especially when she felt his chest pressing against her upper back as he leaned down a bit more.

“I could speak to Lancer-Captain Kells once I return to the Prydwen about sending in some troops to help clear it out within the week, assuming you’d also have some of your Minutemen ready?”

“Mhm, y-yeah,” she breathed, nodding quickly and nervously. “I could, uh… I could do that. When do you…” his hand was on her hip, gently turning her around, “When do you think…” when she was facing him, she realized he was so damn close and still towering over her, “That will… um…”

Her chin was taken between his thumb and forefinger and he tipped her head up—he was so gentle. She stared up at him for a long moment, having forgotten whatever it was she’d been trying to ask, and her eyes flicked between his as she felt her heart racing in her chest, threatening to implode—and then he just… leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, his hand slipping away from her chin so his fingers threaded into her hair.

Oh, fuck.

He was… kissing her. 

Kissing. Her. 

Arthur Maxson was kissing her. 

It was fine. Really. Completely fine. 

Nora gasped, almost freezing in place, but her arms soon wrapped around his neck and she just… _went all in._

Before she knew it, his hands had hooked around the back of her thighs and he was roughly hoisting her onto the edge of the table, forcing her legs open so he could slot himself between them while his lips went to her throat. 

Completely fucking fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> helloooo.
> 
> I know it’s been a while since I’ve updated any of my fics, but between my health and school starting back up last week and having doctor’s appointments at least twice per week (I had fucking four last week, what the fuck), things have been... hectic. hopefully, it’ll calm down soon and I can get back to writing regularly again. but for now, just know there’s only one more chapter left in this fic — and it’s definitely going where you think it is.


	6. Finally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You want to know what else I plan to do to you tonight?” he asked just as his thumb pressed against her clit and started roughly rubbing; Nora could only nod her head, unable to form any actual words as heat was already coiling in her belly. “I plan to watch you ride me, see your tits bounce as you do. Maybe fuck you from behind a little later.” He twisted his wrist and she felt her stomach turn, the coiling heat nearly letting loose already— _fuck,_ how did he do that!? “But I definitely plan to hear you scream my name each and every time I make you cum.”

Nora had never been very shy before—not really. She’d flirted with a lot of people in the past and was fairly upfront with the fact she did it; granted, she’d never outright said she was interested in someone, but that never stopped her from flirting to her heart’s content. Yet, when it came to Arthur Maxson, that wasn’t the case—she couldn’t flirt, couldn’t look him in the eye for long, couldn’t even formulate a single fucking sentence without stuttering over her words and making a fool of herself.

Despite these things, he took the initiative and approached her himself, taking her on fucking _dates_ without her even realizing it; he’d fed her delicious food and good wine while helping her map out trade routes between her settlements and had asked her about herself and her past. Of course, she was a goddamn dunce and oblivious to what he was doing until Preston so delicately pointed it out, but even still, she’d initially refused to believe it was actually happening until she and Arthur were literally sitting on the beach, eating food he’d cooked himself, watching the sunset.

At that point, there wasn’t really any denying it anymore, was there?

With that realization, Nora had tried to turn the tables by inviting _him_ to the castle so _she_ could cook, instead. That… didn’t work out as planned, but they did end up watching the sunset together before sneaking off to her room to avoid a very drunk and very jealous mercenary who was stumbling around the courtyard and yelling about tin cans.

And now, here they were, Arthur’s fingers threaded into her hair, their lips locked, and _she_ wasn’t even the one who’d kissed _him_ —he’d made the first move, which meant she hadn’t forced herself on him like she had the one time after drinking just a bit too much wine.

That was a plus.

A win.

_Nice._

But it also meant she was kissing _Arthur fucking Maxson,_ which was still something she had trouble actually accepting. Surely, she must have been dreaming, right? This was definitely a dream—it had to be. Or maybe she was just dead and this fucked-up afterlife was some weird form of torture where the Elder would soon pull away after getting her all hot and bothered and expecting more from him, only for him to laugh at her, call her fat, and then leave while saying he was way out of her league.

Because she was. And he was.

Whatever. She’d just enjoy it for now.

Nora wrapped her arms around his neck as she stood on her tiptoes to try and correct some of the height difference between them—an entire fucking _foot,_ where she stood at 5’2” and him at 6’2”—that made him hunch over quite a bit. And just as she went all in on their kiss, deepening it and pulling him down a little, his arm wrapped around her waist and pulled their frames tightly together. _Fuck,_ his entire body was firm, and he was… well, he was _hard,_ his cock pressed up against her belly; their kiss immediately turned rougher and even slightly desperate.

Maybe that was her doing.

“So goddamn _short,”_ Maxson growled against her lips before she felt him lean down, his hands hooking around the back of her thighs just beneath her ass and _lifting_ her like it was no big deal. The vaultie was then roughly set on the edge of the table, her legs forced apart so his broad hips could be slotted between them, their bodies pressed back together—and she could feel just how hard he was even more than before.

_Fuck._

The kiss was broken and her head forced back as his lips went to her throat, kissing and nipping the tender skin. She stared up at the stony ceiling, eyes wide, panting, while trying to make sense of what, exactly, was happening.

This… wasn’t a dream, was it?

No, it was _too real_ to be a dream.

Not that long ago, she didn’t think she’d ever had a chance with someone like Arthur Maxson— _especially_ not with Arthur Maxson himself. Sure, she’d gone to the Prydwen just to gawk at the young Elder because he was stupidly fucking pretty and that voice of his was something she wanted to listen to every goddamn minute, but never in her life did she think he’d even consider her or give her the time of day outside of just business and professionalism.

Oh, how wrong she was.

One of her hands went to his shoulder while the other to the back of his neck, thumb just barely grazing over the short hairs along the base of his skull. “I can’t believe this is happening,” she breathed. “Is this really happening?”

“Mhm,” he mumbled against her throat, lightly nipping the skin; Nora gasped and shivered.

_Fuckfuckfuck._

The flat of his tongue was dragged along the spot he’d nipped as one of his hands slid up her side, lightly pushing up her shirt, while the other went back to her ass, his fingers tucking beneath her so he was able to push and pull her hips, forcing them to roll back and forth to where she was _grinding_ against him despite how they hadn’t even taken any of their clothes off. The moan that escaped her was unintentional, but his cock was pressing against her clit _perfectly_ through both of their jeans.

His hand slid from her side up to her hair, fingers threading into the strawberry-blonde locks and gently tugging her head back, coaxing a gasp from her that was then immediately followed up with another moan— _fuck._ Arthur’s lips were on her throat as soon as it was bared to him, placing gentle kisses, licks, and nips along the tender skin.

“Come on, General,” he growled against her; his voice was low and husky and almost teasing. “Roll your hips, let me feel you—there you go.”

As ordered, she started grinding against him on her own, already feeling heat coiling in her lower belly with each movement that had his cock pushing firmly into her clit. If she rolled her hips just right…

A sharp pain shot through her as he clamped his teeth down on her throat just over her pulse point. Nora’s eyes rolled back while a loud moan escaped her—one she couldn’t stop even if she wanted to—and her head fell back into his hand as she clung to him, her nails digging into his neck and shoulder, body tensing from the cocktail of pleasure and pain of not only how he bit her but was now sucking on the spot at the same time and surely leaving a thick, dark bruise that _everyone_ would see because it was in plain fucking view.

Everyone would know.

They’d _know._

“Oh, god, I’m so close,” she breathed, rocking her hips more frantically against him. Maxson bucked his own in return and she cried out, her legs trembling on either side of his body and hands grasping him hard enough that she would have been worried she was breaking the skin with her nails if she’d been in her right mind.

When he released her neck, he pressed the sides of their faces together and began pulling her more into him with each roll of her hips, countering it with his own thrusts—but his were made at a slight upward angle as if he _knew_ he was rubbing against her clit perfectly—and she was _right at the fucking edge._

“I haven’t even undressed you yet and you’re already about to cum?” he purred against her jaw, nipping the curve of it.

She could only quickly nod her head.

“Mm, good. Let me hear you moan my name—tell the rest of the Minutemen who’s doing this to you.”

The hand in her hair gripped a little tighter and she groaned, the heat coiling deep in her belly twisting and turning and so damn ready to release. And when he spoke again, his lips were right beside her ear, his voice having dropped to a low growl.

“Cum for me, Nora.”

As if on command, repetitive waves of heat washed over her as she came, her moans loud and nearly echoing in her quarters—his name _definitely_ mixed in there—while her eyes rolled up and tightly closed. She buried her face in his neck, panting against him and trying to catch her breath; at the same time, he kept her hips moving to help her ride her orgasm out a bit longer, but soon stopped to let her rest.

“Very good girl,” he quietly praised.

Wait.

What?

A soft noise escaped her as she pulled back to look at him, conflict washing over her face while she panted. Why did that praise sound so damn _good?_ Why did it make her stomach twist?

But his eyes briefly met hers as he studied her for only a second before the left corner of his mouth upturned just slightly in a smirk and he leaned in, pressing their lips together in a kiss—any concern she’d had was immediately sent out the door and into the wasteland.

Arthur was soon tugging his shirt up and over his head and tossing it off to the side, their lips breaking apart so the offending garment could be removed; but rather than going back to kissing, Nora found herself looking at his body, taking in the sight. Fuck, he was _gorgeous._ He was built, just like she’d expected—there was no hiding his physique under any amount of clothing, really—and he had thick chest and belly hair that dipped down into the jeans that hung low on his hips. But before she even realized she was doing it, her fingers were threading into his stomach hair, her palms on his abdomen and slowly sliding up toward his chest, running over the thick muscles that were clearly visible from beneath his skin, her eyes following the movements.

There were so many scars on his body, which… made sense, really, considering he was a soldier, as well as considering the sorts of creatures that plagued the wasteland—claw marks along his right pectoral; a plasma burn on his left shoulder blade that trailed up to peak over the top of his shoulder; a round, crater-like mark colored salmon pink in his right shoulder that she assumed must have been a bullet hole at some point; a long, gash-like stripe that curved around from his back to his right hip, and so many more.

How did he get them all? Each scar had a story that she wanted to hear.

When they made eye contact, her face flushed, the realization hitting her that he’d just allowed her to gawk at his physique and features without saying a word. But Arthur wasted no more time as their mouths crashed together in another brief kiss just as he started gently tugging her shirt up and over her head, their lips breaking away only long enough for the piece of clothing to be pulled off before immediately reattaching as soon as it was out of the way. He unclasped her bra, as well, and tossed it to the side; and once they were both topless, she felt him slowly starting to lean forward, forcing her to lean back as he did—until she was laying flat against the table with him atop her, their chests together.

Their kiss grew a bit rougher while his tongue swept along her bottom lip, coaxing her own from her mouth to greet it. Nora rolled her hips into him like she’d been told to do earlier—she could feel his hard cock pressing against her through both their jeans still, and she was so fucking _wet_ from her own slick and cum that part of her wondered if she’d soaked through her pants.

Maxson gently took ahold of her forearms, peeling her hands from the back of his neck and shoulder, and guided them to where his _much larger hands_ were pinning her wrists to the table on either side of her head. At the same time, the kiss was broken, and he started trailing his lips down her chin and throat, his tongue dipping right into the notch of her clavicle.

“Fuck,” she breathed, her chest slightly heaving.

Kisses, licks, and nips were trailed down to one of her breasts just as his hands released her wrists and slowly slid down her arms and chest. The flat of his tongue dragged along one of her nipples before he cupped her breasts from beneath, jiggling her tits just slightly, and one hand ran his thumb over a nipple while his mouth covered the other, pulling it between his lips so he could suck and bite at it.

Nora was… well, Nora was a _mess._ She was panting and moaning while trying to keep her hands on the table, knowing that was what he had silently ordered her to do— _why_ she wanted to obey was still beyond her—but she found it so damn difficult to follow through on that and, instead, ended up threading her fingers into his hair while her other hand found the back of his shoulder again, nails digging into his skin. He didn’t seem to care, thankfully, and just switched between her nipples, biting and sucking them both into peaks and running his thumbs over them.

After a few moments, the Elder pulled away and knelt between her legs while he unlaced her boots and tossed them over his shoulders, then went to unlacing his own and setting them to the side. She pushed herself up to her elbows to watch, but he was done so damn quickly and was standing up again, his lips on hers and guiding her down onto her back once more without warning. His fingers went to the button of her pants, undoing them, then pulling the zipper down before he was roughly yanking her jeans and underwear off her hips and legs. Nora gasped and lifted herself to let them be pulled off with her underwear—but it left her bare to him while he was still halfway dressed.

When he stood up straight, Maxson took a second to look over her body as she laid naked on the table before him, her legs and some of her ass still hanging off the edge; but she felt so fucking _vulnerable_ that she couldn’t stop her arms from covering part of her stomach, hiding a little of herself—the part she was always most self-conscious about. Thankfully, he didn’t focus on that part, nor did he mention it, and instead allowed his hands to slowly slide up and down her bare thighs, his palms rough in comparison to her much softer skin, though the contrast was certainly welcomed as it made her shiver.

But the second he crouched down between her legs again, her breath caught.

Oh, god. Was he—

Arthur’s lips pressed against the inside of her right thigh in a soft kiss, the prickle of his beard just slightly tickling as he trailed kisses further inward and to her core—and the second his lips reached between her thighs, he slowly dragged the flat of his tongue up her folds.

Nora about lost it.

Pushing up to her elbows, she no longer felt the need to cover herself—not for the moment, at least—as she watched what he was doing. And, fuck, it was almost just like her dream. He guided her feet to his shoulders, which allowed her legs to open even more, giving him better access, and one of his hands had spread her lower lips while the other slid a middle finger inside her just as his tongue found her clit.

She was keening almost immediately.

“Oh, _fuck!”_

The vaultie leaned on just one elbow as she reached down and pushed his hair off to the side and out of his face, giving her a better view—but when the brown locks just seemed to keep getting in the way, she kept her fingers threaded in them, gripping without actually pulling, even as her eyes closed and her head fell back in pleasure.

Any time she’d touched herself before, she’d always had the issue of being unable to reach that sensitive spot inside her because her fingers were always too short—the plight of having small hands—but his middle finger alone was easily able to reach it, the pad rubbing against that bundle of nerves almost as soon as he pushed it into her, making her back arch as she mewled. Fuck, he’d probably be able to reach it with his _pinkie._

“Arthur,” she breathed, her hips slightly rolling against his face.

The fingers that had been spreading her open let go and he wrapped his arm around her thigh, his palm placing on her mound as he used his thumb and forefinger not only to spread her lower lips again but to also pull the hood of her clit back some more, giving him better access as he sucked the swollen bud into his mouth and alternated between flicking the tip of his tongue and swirling the flat of it against the sensitive bundle of nerves. And when a second finger was worked into her—his ring finger, though it was slowly worked in because she was _tight,_ not having had sex with anyone since her husband before the bombs—she was already feeling a coiling heat deep in her belly.

“Oh, god. Oh, _fuck,_ Arthur,” Nora keened loudly.

The Elder must have appreciated his name being moaned because he let out a low noise just as he sucked her clit even harder between his lips and that, alone, almost sent her over the edge. She was so fucking close—

_”General?”_

Nora gasped at the familiar voice that came from the other side of the door as it was accompanied by a knock, her eyes growing wide and looking to where it came from, then down at Maxson, who just flicked his gaze up to her—but didn’t fucking stop. Instead, he moved his head from side-to-side a little, swirling his tongue against her even more, and started pumping his fingers _even fucking faster._

Needless to say, she almost lost it and had to cover her mouth to muffle the scream that nearly escaped, her legs trembling so damn much.

_”General, are you alright in there?”_

Taking a deep breath, she kept eye contact with Arthur, but that just seemed to make it _worse._ “Y-yes! I’m just—I’m just _fine,_ Preston.”

_”Are you sure? Some of the guys reported they heard a lot of noise.”_

“Yup, all—all good in here. Th-thanks! _Fuck.”_

There was a brief pause before her second-in-command answered.

_”… Ah, I see. Have fun, Nora. See you both in the morning.”_

Maxson made another low noise into her, the vibrations rumbling into her core, before he crooked his fingers, the pads repetitively tapping against that bundle of nerves in an almost rhythmic pattern, and it sent her skyrocketing over the edge—screaming, back arched, with one hand gripping his hair and the other clenched into a fist.

“Oh, god, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna—I’m— _fuck, I’m coming!”_ she keened. “Fuckfuck _fuck, Arthur!”_

Whether Preston had walked far enough away to not hear her screaming wasn’t her concern anymore because Arthur fucking Maxson had given her probably one of the best orgasms she’d ever had—if not _the_ best orgasm she’d ever had—and they’d just fucking started. He didn’t even have his pants off yet.

Nora was left boneless, arms having flopped onto the table while she was panting and sweating, her legs trembling on his shoulders. If this was what the rest of her orgasms were going to be like…

“Eyes on me.”

The order was sharp and sudden and _snapped,_ and she found herself immediately opening her eyes—not even realizing she’d closed them in the first place—only to find him leaning over her. When the hell had he stood up? 

“I need you to cum one more time. Can you do that for me?”

 _’Need’?_ What did he mean _’need’?_

She nodded as one hand lifted, fingers threading into his hair to hold it out of his face while her other hand went to his upper arm, feeling the muscle beneath his skin roll as he reached down between her legs and started rubbing her folds before dipping his middle and ring fingers back into her. Spreading her legs a bit wider, Nora softly moaned, but the Elder was almost immediately pumping his arm back and forth and roughly fucking her, making her keen while rubbing the pads against that sensitive bundle of nerves.

When he abruptly stopped, though, she could only whine, but that was when he started working in a _third_ finger, stretching her open even more. The vaultie spread her legs as wide as possible, trying to ease the burning feeling his thick fingers were causing despite how gentle he was being—ensuring his fingers were lubricated with her slick and cum—and when she sucked in a sharp, hissing breath between her teeth, he placed a few kisses to her jaw.

“I’ve thought about this before,” he admitted, nipping her gently before pulling away so that he could make eye contact; that just made it so fucking intense.

“You—you have?” she asked; her hips slowly rolled with his hand as he worked all three fingers into her, getting them in to the second knuckle.

“Mhm.”

“What, um… what have you thought about?”

“Tasting you. Fucking you. Making you cum over and over and over again. Hearing you scream my name. Shoving my cock in your mouth until I spill down your throat.” He licked his bottom lip and she couldn’t help it when her eyes dropped to watch his tongue, but they immediately returned to meet his gaze. “I’ve done some of those things so far.”

Nora’s stomach twisted in anticipation and, at the same time, she felt his fingers finally slide in to the last knuckle. “I think—I think we could, um… probably get some more of those… done. M-maybe.”

“Yeah? You think so? Which ones?”

“Um…” Hesitating, the General bit her bottom lip for a second. “Definitely, uh… definitely fucking me. You seem to—seem to be preparing for that, anyway. I think.”

“Mm. What else?” Arthur asked, his hand slowly moving back and forth.

Nora moaned quietly. “Maybe, uh, making me cum again. I think that’s—that’s definitely possible.”

“I agree. I plan to make you cum at least… hm. Let’s say at least three more times, not including this time.”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “Th-three!?”

Arthur shrugged as his hand sped up a little. “Sure, why not?”

“But… that’s—”

“You’re right, three is probably too few, but I figured might as well lowball it this time.”

_This time._

Nora must have looked horrified because his reaction was to grin as wide of a grin as she’d ever seen him make before he started pumping his arm back and forth quickly, fucking her on his fingers, and all she could do in response was mewl.

“You want to know what else I plan to do to you tonight?” he asked just as his thumb pressed against her clit and started roughly rubbing; Nora could only nod her head, unable to form any actual words as heat was already coiling in her belly. “I plan to watch you ride me, see your tits bounce as you do. Maybe fuck you from behind a little later.” He twisted his wrist and she felt her stomach turn, the coiling heat nearly letting loose already— _fuck,_ how did he do that!? “But I definitely plan to hear you scream my name each and every time I make you cum.”

It didn’t take long for her to be sent over the edge screaming his name just like he wanted, his thumb rubbing her clit and fingers beckoning inside her, hitting that sensitive spot that made her tremble, easily turning her into a damn mess. If she could have, she would’ve turned into a puddle of her own slick and cum at his feet, surely.

When she was left boneless and panting _again,_ Maxson pulled his fingers out of her and slowly rubbed her clit while quietly praising her before pulling his hand away completely. He then sat up and pulled her with him, picking her up to where she wrapped her arms around his neck and legs around his hips as he carried her over to the bed, gently setting her down on it and climbing over her and between her legs, their lips meeting in yet another kiss.

Well, this was it. This was _it._ This was what she’d been waiting for, been wanting, been _craving;_ and now that he was here, on top of her, between her legs ready and wanting to have his way with her… _fuck._

Nora unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, one hand reaching into them, her fingers slipping beneath his underwear and wrapping around his—

Holy hell.

The Elder pushed his pants and boxer briefs down, kicking them off the bed, and then sat back on his knees; she lifted up onto one elbow, her other hand still wrapped around his cock.

Well, wrapped around as much of it as possible.

Her eyes dropped to look, and her brows raised, lips parted. _Shit._

He was uncut, but that was unsurprising considering the belief in and practice of circumcision likely would have died out after the bombs with the lack of medical care. And from what she could tell, he was about average in length for his height—maybe? She wasn’t entirely sure, but that seemed about right—but he was… thick. Like, _girthy._ Granted, she had small hands, but the man was fucking _thick,_ she knew that for sure.

And she was starting to worry that he might not fucking fit.

“You’ve… been pregnant before? Given birth?” he asked, bringing her out of her own head.

It was then she realized he’d been gazing at her body, his mind on something completely different from her own. With her attention on his cock, she hadn’t even tried to hide her stomach from him, so he’d taken the opportunity to look her over and… well, he’d caught sight of the stretch marks. One of his hands lowered, fingers gently running over one of the scars as if it was something that he needed to be gentle with.

Nora’s face flushed deep red and she closed her eyes, resisting the urge to bat his hand away from her stomach as she ran her fingers through her hair, instead. “… Yeah,” she answered quietly.

She hadn’t told him about Shaun, though she wasn’t entirely sure why. It was… private, really; she figured she might tell him later after she found out what happened to her son since she was still searching for answers. But now, she expected him to reject her based on the fact that she’d birthed a child—especially since she’d birthed a child from someone else, considering the status of a Maxson in the Brotherhood. 

But when the bed slightly dipped further up her body and he was suddenly leaning over her again, his other hand grasping her jaw, her eyes opened to look up at him, confusion washing over her face.

Arthur studied her for half a second before their lips met in a rough kiss that she found herself moaning into, her body relaxing. That had to be a good sign, right? That he clearly wasn’t turned off but was, well, seemingly _turned on_ by it?

His hand disappeared from her jaw though their lips remained together and she felt two of his fingers slide into her pussy again; she gasped, her back arching and legs spreading a bit more, though his fingers were only inside her briefly before she heard a slight wetness—and then he shifted forward and was slowly pressing into her.

The burn from the stretch wasn’t _terrible_ since he’d fingered her and made her cum a few times, but it was still intense; he used a slow, back-and-forth motion to ease himself in, pausing occasionally to give her time to adjust until he was finally hilted. His lips pressed soft kisses to her collarbone and throat the entire time to help her relax after she’d broken the kiss, and once their hips were flush together, he remained still, waiting for her cue that told him he could move. It took a few moments for the burn to subside, but as soon as it did, she rolled her hips and he made a few small test thrusts.

“Fuck,” she breathed, her legs pulling further up around his waist as she clung to him.

“You’re taking me so well,” he mumbled against her, the tip of his tongue dipping into the notch of her clavicle again; she shivered beneath him. “You’re so damn _small,_ wasn’t sure I’d fit.”

“You and me both,” she admitted breathlessly.

His pace picked up but wasn’t too fast or rough, more so moderate than anything, and he was leaned on one hand that was placed on the mattress a little higher than her head, the other down on her thigh and holding it against his hip. At the same time, she had her fingers threaded into his hair, holding the brown locks out of their faces—the longer hair of his undercut _really_ had the habit of doing that—while her other arm was wrapped beneath his, that hand on his shoulder blade, nails digging into his skin.

Their eyes were locked before Arthur leaned down and started placing kisses and bites along the column of her throat again, and she knew there would be small marks left behind from how often he’d clipped her with his teeth or sucked her skin into his mouth just long enough to leave a bruise.

She didn’t mind.

Hell, she _liked_ it.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned just before his teeth latched onto a spot where her neck connected with her shoulder, biting down and sucking the skin into his mouth to leave a dark bruise behind. Nora immediately moaned, her back arching as she pressed up into him—and he reacted by snapping his hips harder against her, coaxing an even _louder_ moan from her.

 _”Fuck!”_ With curled toes, she was panting, her body nearly trembling beneath him; but he’d returned to that moderate pace. Her body wanted more from him. She _needed_ more from him. “Har-harder?” she whispered.

Maxson released her shoulder and pulled back enough so he could see her face. “Yeah?”

“Please.”

Snapping his hips against her again, his cock brushed that sensitive spot once more and had her keening, back arching. The Elder made a low groan from deep in his chest before he pushed away from her and slipped out— _fuck,_ she whined when she suddenly felt so damn _empty_ —then sat back on his knees. But he grabbed onto her hips, yanking her toward him as she gasped, and pushed her legs up while spreading them apart, then held them open with his hands on her shins; Nora’s own hands went to the back of her thighs to do the same. He then took ahold of himself and _very slowly_ pushed back into her.

Fuck. She nearly came right then.

And when he started thrusting, he started thrusting _hard,_ making her tits jostle up and down, the bed shake, and her moans bounce with each collision of their hips, as well as a familiar heat start coiling deep in her belly because he was hitting that same spot just _perfectly._

“Mm, _shit,“_ he groaned, and that had to be the sexiest fucking thing she’d ever heard. “You look so fucking good.” One hand left her leg and went to one of her tits, grabbing and lightly squeezing; he had large hands but still wasn’t even able to fit all of her breast in his palm.

“Arthur,” she breathed, her back arching so her chest pushed into his hand. Even without him touching her clit, she could feel heat growing in her belly, telling her there was a buildup that would lead her to getting close. It left her keening, and he must have known he was hitting that spot inside her because he suddenly started _slamming_ his hips against her even _harder,_ fucking her rougher than before. The sound of their hips colliding was so damn _loud_ that it was echoing off the walls in the room, but at that point, she couldn’t fucking care. Hell, it just made everything so much better.

The vaultie grabbed onto his wrist and held tightly, her other hand still gripping the back of her leg, and she couldn’t control her nails from digging into his skin as she started closing in on the edge. “Arthur, I—” she started, “I’m gonna—oh, god, I’m gonna cum.”

The hand that was still on her knee moved to the mattress beside her chest as he leaned over her more, panting heavily and driving his hips hard against her. “That’s it,” he growled. “Cum for me.”

Nora had never been quiet during sex, not even before the bombs. She’d struggled with keeping her voice down over 210 years ago and she certainly struggled with keeping it down now as she came for the _fourth_ time tonight. Her screams filled the room, Arthur’s name mixed within them, and her nails were dug into his wrist and forearm as she came—but, hell, he seemed to be _enjoying_ it.

“Fuck, so goddamn _tight,”_ he groaned.

She could feel herself pulsing around him while still coming down from her orgasm, her legs trembling on either side of his hips while he never let up on how hard he was fucking her, but she felt his thrusts faltering as he was losing his rhythm, and she could tell he was already close. But when he suddenly pulled out and sat back on his knees more, his thumb and forefinger wrapping around the base of his cock, she was left panting on the bed, staring at him.

He wasn’t coming?

Maxson released himself after a second and moved to lay beside her, then reached over and grabbed her around the waist, pulling her so she was on her hands and knees over him. “Come here,” he growled playfully; Nora shrieked as she was abruptly yanked atop him, straddling his hips.

Leaning down, the vaultie pressed their lips together, enjoying the feeling of his hands stroking over her thighs and sides. It’d been so long since she’d had anyone touch her like this—she’d _missed_ the intimacy. Not even the intimacy of having sex, but just the intimacy of having someone touch her at all; and whether Arthur realized it or not, the way he was touching her so gently…

She shifted her hips, pressing her slit down on his cock as it was resting up against his belly; she lowered to where the length of his shaft was pushed between her folds, then slowly started moving her hips back and forth, grinding on him, rubbing her slick along the underside of his cock and her clit against the ridged bottom of the head. Fuck, it felt so damn good. His hands were on her ass, grabbing and guiding her back and forth on him while he gently bit her bottom lip, tugging, coaxing a moan from her. But rather than kissing his lips again, she went to his neck and placed soft kisses there, instead; Arthur tipped his head back to submit his throat, which was… interesting. Not something she would have expected from him.

Of course, Nora seized the opportunity to pay him back for the bruises he’d gifted her neck and shoulders earlier—plus, Nate always liked being bitten, so she might as well see if Arthur liked it, too. Yet, when she sank her teeth into the Elder’s throat, just beneath where he shaved his beard, his reaction was… different than her late husband’s. More _intense._ The noise he let out was one that sounded like he was about to cum right then and there, and his body tensed beneath her for half a second before nearly melting into the bed like butter, though his hands still firmly gripped her ass.

“Oh, fuck,” he groaned, the words breathy, and it just sounded so damn _good._

After sucking on the spot for a few moments and ensuring there would be a dark bruise where she’d bitten him, Nora released his skin and placed a soft kiss there. “Mm, you like that?” she purred. It seemed she’d found her confidence as soon as he’d lost his ability to fucking _move._

“Yeah,” he answered, panting; his eyes had closed, head still tipped back.

She placed a few gentle kisses along his collarbone and ground herself against him again. “You want me to bite you some more?”

A low groan rumbled from deep in his chest and he nodded. “Yes.”

Nora couldn’t help the grin that stretched across her face before she sank her teeth into a different spot on his throat, leaving another mark; the action was repeated on his neck, shoulders, and chest as she gifted him bruises that not only left him panting and moaning and oozing precum between their bodies, but it also left him _marked._ And while she didn’t realize that was what she was doing at first, she certainly realized it by the time she’d bruised up his neck and collarbone and was moving down to his chest. Anyone who saw him—assuming he didn’t use a stimpack—would know where he’d been.

They’d know he’d been with _her._

And maybe… maybe that was an idea she relished in.

Trailing kisses down his sternum and navel, she made her way between his legs and toward his groin. She didn’t give his cock any attention at first, instead kissing and licking along his pelvic muscle and upper thighs until she was finally dragging the flat of her tongue up his length, from base to tip. Maxson spread his legs to give her more room, bending them at the knees a little, his eyes on her face as she swirled her tongue along the underside of his cock again while dragging it from one end to the other. She took him in her hand after a moment, though, and slowly stroked him a couple times before sliding the head of his cock into her mouth and lightly sucked, tasting herself mixed with the salt of his skin and precum.

Arthur reached down and brushed her hair from her face, threading his fingers in it without grabbing or pulling or directing her movements. Their eyes remained locked as she slid more of him into her mouth, just slowly bobbing her head and teasing him, swirling her tongue along the underside of his shaft.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “There you go. Good girl.”

There was that _praise_ again. She wasn’t sure why, but every time he praised her, it made her stomach twist. _Flutter._

Her free hand was initially resting on his thigh, nails digging in—he seemed to enjoy being scratched earlier, so she figured why not try it in different places—before she slid that hand between his legs, her thumb hooking beneath his balls so they rested on the webbing of her thumb and forefinger, which she then pushed them _up_ against the base of his cock to apply some pressure—and if the low groan he let out was anything to go by, he definitely enjoyed it.

Sliding more of him into her mouth, she caved her cheeks, abruptly sucking hard whereas she’d only been sucking lightly and teasingly before—Arthur moaned as his eyes closed and head tipped back, his hips bucking up into her mouth, though he mumbled an apology that had her lightly laughing around him. His hand just barely gripped her hair, but it seemed unintentional, and if she was being honest… well, she _liked_ it.

After a moment, Nora took the rest of him in, pushing her nose into his groin and the head of his cock into the back of her throat. But she’d never learned how to keep herself from gagging, and so she was choking on him immediately, though trying to tough it out as long as she could.

“Look at me,” he ordered; her eyes raised to look up at him, tears forming in the corners. “Fuck, you look so good. Got your mouth full, my cock in your throat—”

Nora pulled off, coughing and gasping for breath while her face turned a dark shade of red as she turned away from him. The Elder sat up then and she felt his hand gently grasp her chin, making her look back at him just before their lips connected in a kiss. But as soon as it broke, he kept his hand on her jaw as he slowly laid back, coaxing her to move with him.

“Come here,” he quietly ordered.

Obedience was coming naturally at this point as she crawled up his body until she was on her hands and knees over him. He released her jaw then, one hand disappearing between their bodies, and she lowered her hips down as he grabbed ahold of his cock, angling it upward and allowing her to slowly sink down onto him. Despite having him inside her not long ago, it was still _intense_ and merely being filled had her gasping and moaning, her body tensing up as she slowly sank down on him until their hips were flush.

Arthur’s hands found her thighs, gently stroking up and down from her knees to her hips a few times, then eventually reaching up to her breasts and cupping them. “Mm, can’t believe I waited this long to fuck you,” he purred.

“Did you,” she quietly gasped as she started moving her hips back and forth, grinding against him to where her clit was rubbing against his groin. “Did you think about this— _mmm_ —about this… _a lot?”_

“You have no idea,” he growled. “Wanted to bend you over the table the— _mmm_ —the first night you came into my quarters.” Keeping one hand on her breast, his other slipped between her legs, thumb rubbing at her clit.

“O-oh. What, um— _fuck_ —what else?”

A grin spread across his face and his thumb started moving faster on her clit, rubbing quick, rough circles. “Wanted to take you against the— _fuck_ —against the wall, feel your nails down my back. Let the whole ship hear you scream my name as I— _mmmshit_ —as I fucked you.”

“Oh, god, Arthur,” she breathed, her back arching. She started moving her hips faster, grinding harder into his thumb; his cock was rubbing against her sweet spot with each movement she made, and it was causing heat to coil deep in her belly. “Tell me—tell me more.”

“Almost fucked you on the beach,” he revealed. “When you were— _mmmfuck_ —when you were leaned against me. _Fuck,_ I was hard, but you didn’t notice.”

She didn’t notice, he was right, but now she wished she had. But… if he’d tried to fuck her, would she have let him?

Who was she kidding, of course she would have let him fuck her.

“I—I didn’t,” she admitted.

His hands slipped to her waist, gripping tightly as he started guiding her up and down to bounce on him while, at the same time, he thrusted up into her, meeting her halfway. Nora grabbed onto his forearms as she keened, trying to ground herself anywhere she could, though one of her hands soon found his chest, fingers threading into the hair and nails digging into his skin.

 _”Fuck,_ we should have done this sooner,” he groaned.

“I didn’t— _oh god, fuck_ —I didn’t think you—you _liked_ me like that!”

“Clearly,” he quipped as he dug his heels into the bed more firmly, thrusting up into her harder. “You were so fucking oblivious that I had to— _mmmfuck_ —that I had to take you to the goddamn _beach_ for you to even— _shhhit_ —to even realize what I was doing.”

“I—I wasn’t used to being— _fuck_ —to being taken on dates!” she panted, her back arching and nails digging into his skin a little more; he groaned in response, and at that point, she was ready to tip over the edge. “Oh, god, Arthur, I’m so close. _Please!”_

“Let me feel you cum around my cock, pet.”

_Pet?_

She was sent over the edge, back arching, screaming his name, the two-syllable word drawn out and bouncing each time their hips clapped together, his cock rubbing against her sweet spot each time he moved in and out.

“There you go, that’s it. _Fuck,_ you feel so good,” he groaned.

She was suddenly pulled down atop him with one arm wrapping completely around her waist, the other grabbing onto one of her ass cheeks as their lips connected. She was forced to stop bouncing on him while, at the same time, he started fucking up into her even faster and harder. Gripping the sheets on either side of his head, she was only able to hold the kiss for a few moments before she had to pull her lips away, loud moans escaping her throat between heavy panting.

Arthur shifted so the sides of their faces were pressed together, and she pushed her lips against the skin just beneath his ear in an attempt to stifle the noises she was making. It didn’t really work as well as she’d hoped, but the sound of his hips slamming against hers, skin clapping against skin, was much louder, so that helped drown her noises out a little. And then his breathy moans in her ear eventually had her not even fucking caring about how loud she was.

 _”Fuck,_ you feel so good wrapped around me,” he groaned, squeezing her ass even harder; she was pretty certain there’d be bruises there, too, by the time he let go.

Even though she’d just cum, heat was coiling deep in her belly again, and she found her fingers threading into his hair, gripping tightly as if she were holding on for dear life; but just as she was so close to tipping over the edge, he just… pulled out.

She felt so fucking _empty._

“What… why did you…” she panted but couldn’t formulate the sentence, instead just slumping against him.

Just as sudden as being pulled down, she was on her back. Arthur was still between her legs though his lips were now at her throat, kissing along the column; she tipped her head back, baring and submitting herself to him, and he took that opportunity to sink his teeth into her skin, biting hard enough to leave a mark. The vaultie was left moaning and writhing beneath him, her hands seeking purchase on his shoulders and back, and as soon as he released her neck from his hold, he sat up on his knees and hooked his hands around the back of her thighs, pushing her legs up close to her chest so her hips were rolled upward—nearly making her fold in on herself.

It wasn’t comfortable but the moment his face was between her legs, she couldn’t think about anything else—instead, all she could focus on was how fucking good it felt and how perfect the visual of his tongue flicking against her clit was. She could see the pink muscle rolling against that sensitive bundle of nerves, making her body tremble, and she nearly lost it right then and there.

Both her hands went to his head, fingers threading into his hair and nails gently grazing his scalp as he sucked her clit between his lips, swirling his tongue against it over and over and over. Her legs were trembling almost right away, heat coiling deep in her belly again and warning her that her impending orgasm hadn’t gone too far despite how she’d been denied. Fuck, this man was amazing with his mouth. And his cock. And just… fucking _everything._

“Oh, god,” she breathed, her eyes locking onto his again before they dropped a bit lower the second his tongue was visible once more. She watched him lap at her clit, the flat of his tongue dragging against it repeatedly before he moved his head a bit further down and thrust his tongue inside her, wiggling it; the tip of his nose pressed firmly against her clit as his head moved from side-to-side, giving friction to the sensitive bundle of nerves. Nora was keening, hands gripping his hair tightly as she felt herself throb around his tongue, and she couldn’t tear her gaze away from his anymore.

“Fuck, I’m so close.”

Maxson made a low noise against her before he shifted back up and sucked her clit into his mouth again, sucking _hard_ and rolling his tongue against it. Within moments, she was sent over the edge—back arching and screaming his name.

Everything sort of blurred together for a few seconds after that and she only became aware he was back atop her when she felt him kissing her chest, their hips close—but he hadn’t let her body move out of the position he’d folded her into. The Elder had one knee bent as he knelt onto the other, using that as leverage to lean up a little so he could slide his cock all the way into her— _fuck,_ he was rubbing her walls just right—and as soon as he was hilted, her legs were thrown over his shoulders, one hand was planted on the bed, the other in the center of her chest, and he started to fuck _down_ into her.

It was a position she’d never experienced before.

The angle was hitting that spot _perfectly._

“Oh, fuck yes. Oh, god. Fuckyesrightthererightthererightthere _rightthere!”_

“Listen to that,” he purred, thrusting a bit harder so their hips clapped together. It was nowhere near as hard as he’d been fucking her before, but that was fine, because the angle was _just right._ “You hear how pretty you sound? Keening for me?”

Nora shook her head quickly as if she could deny it, but the second he snapped his hips against her, she was moaning loudly again, her hands finding his chest and digging her nails in. “Please— _fuck_ —please. I—I need it _harder.”_

The Elder moved her legs off his shoulders and held onto the back of her thighs, pushing them down on either side of her chest toward the mattress to keep her spread open. But rather than kneeling on one knee, he shifted so he was leaned on the balls of his feet and, with that, used the position to fuck into her harder at an even more downward angle, forcing her to keen his name and tremble beneath him.

Heat was already building deep in her belly again, threatening to explode, and with him leaning on the balls of his feet, the head of his cock was hitting her sweet spot over and over. But the second she was so close to tipping over the edge, he just… stopped again.

Nora’s eyes grew wide as he pulled out and she went to reach a hand down between her legs to finish herself off—she was _so fucking close_ —but she didn’t get the chance as Arthur was grabbing her around her midsection and flipping her onto her stomach, then pulling her up onto her hands and knees while he remained on his knees behind her.

A rough palm slid up and down her spine, the contrast welcome. “You alright like this?” he asked, panting.

When she nodded her head, she felt the tip of his cock rubbing up and down her folds, teasing, reminding that coiled heat not to go anywhere, before he started pushing back in. The vaultie moaned, and once he was hilted, he remained still for a second to give her a chance to relax. The new position had him already touching that sensitive spot inside her but at a completely different angle, and she was almost ready to start trembling again. Or was she _still_ trembling, never having stopped?

After a few moments, he started thrusting, though it was slow at first; he rocked his hips against her, not even fully pushing into her as he did, but it had her moaning, regardless.

“Oh, god. _Fuck,”_ she breathed.

He picked up the pace, but not much, though there was a light clapping noise of his hips against her ass, and it had her moaning—but she still wanted _more._

“Harder,” she groaned.

But he stopped.

“Say it again.”

“Wh-what?”

“Say it again. Tell me what you want,” he ordered.

“I want—I want you to fuck me harder,” she repeated.

There was an expectation for him to say something— _anything_ —but, instead, she felt his palm press between her shoulder blades as he roughly pushed her upper half down into the mattress and leaned over her. Nora gasped, but with her ass in the air, her hips were angled just right, and it had him thrusting _deep_ into her, hitting that spot even better and leaving her mewling beneath him. That, and combined with how he started pounding into her, his hips slamming against her ass, she almost felt like she was about to go boneless without even needing to cum.

“If only you could see yourself,” he panted above her; Nora’s face flushed. “You look so fucking good like this—bent over for me, moaning, _submitting.”_

Submitting?

His hips snapped against her ass and she felt returning heat deep in her belly suddenly and tightly coiling again, threatening to release at any moment. “I—I don’t—“ she started but stopped when he leaned back up onto his knees again; she went to lean back up on her hands like before, but ended up stopping when he pushed her back down.

“No, no. You stay there,” he ordered.

Nora bit her bottom lip again but lowered herself back down on the mattress. Arthur wasn’t done there, though, and instead he pushed her legs closer together without closing them completely, his own legs going on the outside of hers, shins crossing over her calves as if he was _pinning them down._ And when he started thrusting again, he just kept hitting that bundle of nerves over and over, the head of his cock prodding against it rather than brushing or rubbing, and it was sending her straight to the edge like she was on a fusion bullet train.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck _fuckfuckfuck!”_ she keened. There was _pressure_ building inside her, but it was different than what she’d felt before, and it was in a slightly different spot, too, almost like she had to—

Her orgasm was sudden when it happened and Maxson’s cock was _pushed out of her._ He moved to be sitting back on his knees and, at the same time, she felt his fingers roughly and quickly rubbing against her clit, making her orgasm grow _even more_ intense. She tried to move away from him but he had her legs trapped beneath his, so her only her top half lunged forward a little, but he just grabbed onto her hip with his free hand to hold her still—and it was only then she realized her thighs were fucking _wet._

Oh, and she was screaming and trembling, but that was sort of drowned out by the intensity of her orgasm.

Before she knew it, Arthur was fucking her again, his cock shoved back in her as he started slamming into her from behind, hitting that same spot. She kept screaming, gripping the sheets to ground herself—but when he grabbed her other hip, his hand was entirely _soaked,_ and that was when she realized what happened.

Oh.

_Oh._

She’d just—

“God, you’re so fucking _wet,_ Nora,” he groaned. “I can feel you _pulsing_ around my cock.”

This man was going to be the end of her.

He kept going, his hips clapping against her ass as he panted and quietly groaned. But when his arm was suddenly around her waist again, pulling her back against his body, his thrusts slowed down to where there was just a light clapping of his hips against her ass. Nora reached one arm behind her and wrapped it around the back of his neck while he leaned down to press the side of his face against her, his lips just behind her ear.

“I’m close,” he panted. “Where do you want me?”

Her free hand reached back, grabbing onto his hip. “I—I don’t,” she started, but just shook her head. “I don’t care.”

Maxson released a shaky exhale and kissed beneath her ear. “Let me cum inside you.”

It took a second for his words to register, but once they did, Nora’s eyes grew wide and her face flushed even more. The image flashed in her mind—his cum leaking out of her after he filled her, dripping down her legs—and heat immediately pooled between her thighs, coiling.

Fuck. That was a bad idea.

“In—inside me?” she asked.

A _really_ bad idea.

“Yeah,” he confirmed, snapping his hips against her ass before slowing his thrusts down even more. 

But Nora was never known for making the greatest decisions in the heat of the moment.

“Okay,” she whispered, nodding quickly.

One of his hands shifted up to her collarbone, just beneath her throat without actually being _on_ her throat—she tipped her head back against his shoulder, almost _inviting_ him to grab her there, but he never did—while the other went down between her legs, fingers quickly and roughly rubbing her clit.

“Shit,” she breathed, hips jerking at the suddenness of the stimulation. The hand she had on his hip reached a bit further back, closer to his ass.

“I want you to cum with me, pet. Think you can do that?” he asked, his voice still a low growl.

Nora nodded quickly again. “Yes, I—I can do that,” she breathed. “I _want_ to do that. _Please.”_

“Mm, _fuck,_ you’re such a good girl, aren’t you?”

Nodding again, her hand slid further back, reaching, reaching, _reaching_ —almost there. “I— _yes. I’m—I’m a—”_ her stomach twisted as heat coiled tightly, threatening to release, “—Oh, _fuck,_ I’m gonna cum!”

“That’s it, pet,” he growled while his hips sped up again, cock pounding into her roughly. “Cum for me while I fill you.”

Just before she came, her hand latched onto his ass cheek, nails digging in to keep from slipping off or having to let go—but it didn’t matter, because as soon as she tipped over the edge and was pulsing around his cock, moaning his name, that seemed to help him reach his end, as well. Arthur thrusted into her once more before hilting himself, his groin flush with her ass while he moaned low against her, hips making a few involuntary thrusts as he came, both of them left panting.

Slipping his hand out from between her legs, he gently grasped her jaw, turning her head so she was looking at him, and then pulled her into a kiss that was only held for a few moments. As soon as it was broken, he released her chin and brushed some of her hair from her face while, at the same time, he pulled his hips back and slowly slid his cock out of her.

 _Fuck,_ she could feel his cum leaking out and down her thighs already while that empty feeling took over again. Part of her wanted to ask him to just put his cock back in her just so she wouldn’t feel so fucking empty anymore.

From there, everything was just… gentle. He helped her lay down on the bed before asking where she kept a few items, then stepped away to grab some things. When he returned, climbing back on the bed, he had two wet cloths and a can of water, the cloths being set down on the nightstand beside the bed while he popped open the can and helped her sit up enough to drink.

It was weird having someone treat her like this. She didn’t need to drink anything, more so just needed to rest because she was tired—it’d been a long time since she’d had sex, after all, so she was _exhausted._ But he felt the need to give her water and, what, clean her up?

The assumption was correct after he took the water once she was finished and set it aside, then was soon dragging one of the wet cloths along her thigh, coaxing her to spread her legs so he could clean between them— _fuck,_ she was sensitive.

“You did so well,” he praised.

What the fuck?

“What are you talking about?” she asked, confused; her head tipped up as he pressed his lips to different spots on her throat, then her collarbone—she realized he was kissing the bruises he’d left.

“You took me so well,” he explained. “You’re such a good girl.”

There was that _praise_ again. That _’good girl.’_ It made her stomach twist and she chewed her bottom lip. “I… was?” she asked.

“Mhm. A very good girl,” the Elder reassured her as his lips went to a mark that was on her shoulder; she looked at him, meeting his eyes. _”My_ good girl,” he added.

Her chest ached.

“Yours?” she whispered.

Something flashed across his face that she couldn’t explain, but he kept his eyes on her as his lips slowly trailed down toward her chest. “Yes, _mine,”_ he confirmed. “Why do you think I gave you these marks, hm? Just for fun? No, it’s so _everyone_ knows you belong to me.”

Swallowing hard, she watched him move between her breasts. “Is that… why you let me leave bruises on you, as well? Why you let me _mark_ you?”

Maxson paused briefly before a grin stretched across his face, upturning his left cheek more than his right. “I’ve never let anyone mark me before, pet,” he revealed.

Oh, fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long to finish! I hope y'all enjoyed this work—I know I enjoyed writing it! let me know what you thought about it. favorite parts, etc.
> 
> come talk to me on discord. you can find my info in my profile.


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